3   1822  01097   1547 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


3   1822  01097   1547 


PHARMACY 


PLYMOUTH 
MICH. 


THE    DEVIL   WORSHIPPER 


Her  blonde  hair  gave  her  face  a  setting  of  wondrous  beauty. 


By 
FREDERICK  A.   RAY 

Author  of 
"  Maid  of  the  Mohawk" 


THE  C.   M.  CLARK  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

Boston,  Massachusetts 

1908 


Copyright,    1908, 

By 
THE  C.  M.  CLARK.  PUBLISHING  CO., 

Boston,   Massachusetts, 
U.  S.  A. 

AH  rightt  reserved. 


PREFACE. 


SATANISM,  according  to  The  New  International 
Encyclopedia,  is  the  cult  of  Satan  and  an  important 
phase  of  occultism.  From  the  character  of  its  wor 
ship  it  is  necessarily  secret,  and  precise  details  are 
difficult  to  acquire.  The  impression  which  generally 
prevails,  however,  that  Satanism  is  a  recent  and 
spasmodic  outburst  of  diabolical  sacrilege,  is  in 
correct.  The  cult  is  an  old  one,  and  in  its  origin 
reaches  far  back  into  the  primitive  religion,  while  it 
is  apparently  a  conglomerate  of  at  least  three  en 
tirely  distinct  components.  Considering  first  the 
actual  phenomena  presented  by  Satanism,  it  may  be 
that  the  cult  reaches  its  acme  in  the  Black  Mass, 
which  stands  to  it  in  the  same  relation  as  stands  the 
White  (or  Christian)  Mass  to  the  Catholic  Church. 
The  Black  Mass  is  the  direct  opposite  of  the  White 
Mass.  The  celebrant  of  the  Mass,  who  must  have 
been  a  priest,  is  clad  only  in  his  sacrificial  vestments, 
of  which  the  chasuble  may  bear  the  figure  of  a  goat, 
while  the  scarlet  biretta  is  held  by  a  woman  dressed 

iii 


iv  PREFACE. 

in  scarlet,  who  serves  as  deacon.  Upon  the  altar  is 
an  inverted  cross.  Incense  is  used  during  the  Mass, 
but  is  mingled  with  some  foul-smelling  substance. 
The  Black  Credo,  which  is  a  blasphemous  antithesis 
of  the  Apostles'  creed,  is  then  recited. 

The  form  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  Mass  itself  has 
changed  since  the  seventeenth  century.  In  the 
mediaeval  period,  and  as  late  as  the  famous  Black 
Masses  performed  by  Abbe  Guibourg  on  the  persons 
of  Mme.  de  Montespan  and  others,  the  altar  was  the 
reclining  body  of  a  nude  woman,  who  held  in  her 
outstretched  hands  the  lighted  candles. 

The  history  of  Satanism  is  obscure.  Attempts 
have  been  made  to  prove  Gilles  de  Laval,  Baron  de 
Retz  (1396-1440)  (see  Bluebeard),  to  have  been 
one  of  its  first  adherents.  It  existed  pertinaciously 
with  a  recrudescence  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV., 
and  is  still  practiced,  especially  in  France,  but  prob 
ably  in  lessening  degree.  Its  American  stronghold 
is  said  by  some  to  have  been  the  ill-fated  city  of 
Saint  Pierre  in  Martinique. 


THE   DEVIL   WORSHIPPER, 


BOOK  I. 
CHAPTER  I. 

"  MR.  DURAND,  the  president  would  like  to  see 
you  in  his  office."  So  spoke  a  voice  over  the 
shoulder  of  Herbert  Durand,  as  he  footed  the  last 
balance  on  the  open  ledger  before  him,  preparatory 
to  putting  the  books  into  the  great  vault  at  his  back 
and  leaving  the  bank  for  the  night. 

The  banking-house  in  which  Durand  worked  was 
similar  to  many  others  that  teem  lower  Broadway, 
and  Wall  Street  in  the  great  city  of  New  York. 

Durand  himself  is  entitled  to  some  introduction. 
Born  and  reared  amidst  bucolic  scenes,  his  parents 
sacrificed  much  that  he  might  have  a  college  edu 
cation.  This  completed,  on  the  recommendation  of 
one  of  his  professors  he  secured  the  position  he 
now  occupied,  that  of  clerk  and  accountant  in  a  de 
partment  which  dealt  with  the  investment  of  the 
people's  funds  and  the  large  surplus  of  the  bank. 

1 


2  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

A  man  with  self-respect  makes  a  good  servant. 
He  who  is  proud  seldom  fails.  Perhaps  this  trait  of 
Durand's  was  noticed  by  the  professor  who  recom 
mended  him.  Perhaps  it  was  noted  by  the  far-seeing 
bank  president,  whose  long  experience  had  made 
him  a  psychologist.  At  any  rate  it  was  one  of  Dur 
and's  chief  assets,  for  few  persons  believed  more  in 
themselves  than  he  did.  Not  as  a  fool  who  thinks 
himself  wise,  but  he  had  an  inborn  consciousness  of 
self-esteem, — an  accessory  which,  to  be  used  suc 
cessfully,  must  be  well  guarded.  Pride,  belief  in 
himself,  outward  honesty  and  every-day  service 
had  made  of  him  an  employee  who  enjoyed  the 
confidence  of  his  employer,  and  who  possessed  the 
respect  of  his  fellow  employees. 

For  ten  years  he  had  sat  at  his  desk.  No  murmur 
of  discontent  ever  escaped  him.  Feeling  that  his 
interests  were  safe-guarded,  for  his  salary  had  been 
advanced  from  time  to  time,  he  had  found  no  fault 
with  his  surroundings  outwardly,  giving  evidence 
to  the  scrutinizing  president  that  no  discontent — 
that  destroyer  of  good  service — rankled  in  his  heart. 

Little  was  known  about  him  by  his  fellow  em 
ployees  save  that  he  was  a  bachelor,  living  alone 
somewhere,  and  that  he  was  punctilious  in  his  dress 
and  conscientious  in  his  work,  kindly  but  not 
confidential  in  his  manner.  None  of  them  had  vis 
ited  him;  none  had  been  invited.  His  holidays  he 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  3 

apparently  spent  by  himself,  and  the  planned  frivoli 
ties  of  the  others  always  excluded  him.  At  first 
they  invited  him  to  go  along.  These  invitations  he 
invariably  declined,  graciously,  of  course,  for  he 
was  always  the  gentleman.  After  a  few  times,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  these  invitations  ceased,  and  to 
him,  who  wanted  isolation  from  his  fellows  socially, 
it  was  granted.  Yet  if  one  of  them  experienced  dif 
ficulty  in  balancing  intricate  and  evasive  deals  in 
finance,  Durand  was  sought.  Was  one  sick  or  ab 
sent,  his  share  in  the  work  was  shouldered  by 
Durand,  the  man  whom  all  viewed  alike  with  re 
spect  and  awe. 

He  talked  but  little  to  those  about  him,  seeming 
to  prefer  silence  to  conversation,  yet  when  drawn 
out  exhibited  remarkable  powers  of  conversation, 
tinctured  with  anecdotes,  knowledge  of  a  general 
nature,  history  and  finance.  But  of  the  latter  he 
talked  but  little  to  anyone,  as  though  he  cared  not 
to  talk  "  shop,"  or  that  the  subject  by  familiarity 
was  stale  and  contemptible. 

None  perhaps,  save  the  president,  whose  business 
it  was  to  know,  knew  of  his  origin  or  education. 
To  have  said  that  this  polished  and  quiet  man  was 
reared  in  pastoral  places  would  have  seemed  in 
congruous,  for  he  was  the  very  antithesis  of  his 
early  environments.  He  seemed  to  have  always 


4  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

known  and  sought  the  haunts  and  the  habits  of  the 
so-called  and  accepted  refined  classes. 

Herbert  Durand  was  too  well  versed  in  business 
mannerisms  to  show  any  outward  surprise  when  the 
president  wished  to  see  him.  Yet  he  was  surprised. 
The  time  was  Saturday,  the  end  of  the  month  and  of 
the  quarter  year  when  financial  institutions  make 
changes  in  the  clerkships,  vote  to  repair  offices  or 
increase  a  surplus.  It  was  also  just  after  the  noon 
hour  Saturday,  preceding  the  half  holiday — a  half 
holiday  given  tired  and  overworked  clerks. 

The  books  stored  in  the  vault  Durand  made  his 
way  to  the  back  of  the  office  past  the  rows  of  clerks 
engaged  in  finishing  tasks,  and  rapping  on  the  door 
of  the  president's  private  office,  in  response  to  the 
admonition  from  the  inside  to  "  come  in,"  he  en 
tered. 

The  president,  Charles  Graham,  a  gentlemanly, 
well-dressed,  urbane  man  of  fifty,  sat  back  in  his 
chair,  idly  toying  with  his  eyeglasses  as  if  in  deep 
thought.  He  raised  his  eyes  as  Durand  entered. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Durand,"  he  said,  ".be  seated." 

Durand  was  seated  close  by  and  exactly  in  front 
of  the  man  who  had  commanded  him.  If  he  realized 
that  he  was  at  the  parting  of  the  ways,  his  outward 
demeanor  gave  no  sign  of  any  such  presentiment. 
Calmly  and  coldly  he  looked  his  superior  officer  in 
the  eye. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  5 

Silence  for  a  moment,  as  these  men  faced  each 
other,  both  quiet  and  collected,  both  of  mobile 
countenance  and  eyes  of  steel,  each  feeling  himself 
the  equal  of  the  other  in  case  gigantic  nerve  or  other 
heroics  should  be  called  into  play.  The  president 
uneasily  stroked  his  gray  beard,  pulled  down  the 
lower  vest  over  his  rotund  stomach  and  adjusted 
the  fob  of  his  watch,  his  eye  resting  occasionally  on 
the  other.  Strange  to  say,  although  his  words  that 
were  to  follow  would  be  harsh,  yet  his  glance  bore 
in  it  no  hatred,  but  rather  admiration  for  the  man 
before  him. 

Suavely  he  commenced.  "  A  man  to  be  a  success 
in  a  banking  institution  must  be  an  automaton;  he 
must  have  the  docility  of  a  horse  and  the  wisdom 
and  secrecy  of  an  owl.  He  must  not  talk  nor  act 
save  by  the  permission  of  others.  He  must  be 
always  honest.  But  can  he  be,  if  he  uses  the  secrets 
of  the  bank  to  his  own  advantage?  "  and  he  looked 
sharply  at  Durand.  "  Perhaps  so  at  first,  but 
should  there  come  a  pinch,  he  will  falsify." 

The  president  arched  his  eyes  and  looked  steadily 
at  the  man  before  him.  If  Durand  knew  what  was 
implied  he  gave  no  sign.  Passive  was  his  counte 
nance.  Cold-blooded  hardly  describes  the  man  who 
could  sit  and  hear  his  honesty  questioned  without 
deigning  to  notice  the  accusation. 

The  president  continued :    "  You  understand  then 


6  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

why  I  called  you  here.  Here  is  the  salary  due  you. 
I  am  sorry  for  you,  Durand.  Personally  I  like  and 
respect  you.  We  can  hardly  expect  to  fill  your  place, 
sir.  You  are  an  efficient  man.  I — ah,  any  recom 
mendation  you  may  care  for  I  will  gladly  sign. 
You  may  edit  anything  in  this  line  you  care  to  say." 

The  other's  cold  gray  eyes  gleamed  at  the  speaker 
for  a  minute.  "  Well,  should  I  need  recommenda 
tion  I  will  come  to  you.  I  thank  you  for  the  offer." 
'  You  understand,  do  you  not?  I  would  like  to 
keep  you  in  our  employ,  but,  sir,"  and  he  laughed 
lightly,  "  you  know  too  much,  Durand." 

Herbert  Durand  arose,  drew  himself  up  to  his 
full  height  and  said,  "  Good  evening,  sir." 

The  president  extended  his  hand,  which  Durand 
haughtily  took  and  as  haughtily  looked  into  the 
other's  face  a  moment  and  then  withdrew. 

The  clerks  had  all  left  as  he  passed  out,  relieving 
him  of  the  necessity  of  saying  "  good-bye,"  which 
he  probably  would  not  have  said. 

Hailing  a  cab  he  gave  the  driver  some  directions, 
and  in  full  view  of  the  president,  who  had  followed 
him  out,  drove  away.  As  the  president  saw  the 
extravagance  of  his  former  clerk  in  taking  a  cab  he 
was  a  bit  surprised.  Durand  had  never  dared  to 
indulge  in  this  piece  of  extravagance  so  openly  in 
sight  of  his  fellows  at  the  bank,  much  less  to  the 
president.  No  wonder  the  latter  thought  him  twice 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  7 

bold  who  would  thus  expose  his  extravagant 
methods  to  one  who  knew  so  well  of  his  dismissal 
and  the  reasons  therefor. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  president,  "  he  was  a  valu 
able  man,  and  yet,  now  that  he  has  gone,  I  believe 
him  a  dangerous  one." 

Could  he  have  heard  the  order  given  to  the  driver, 
could  he  have  looked  in  on  his  discharged  clerk  as, 
an  hour  later,  when  at  Delmonico's  he  sat  at  lunch, 
the  spread  of  which  he  partook  would  have  given 
the  president  another  surprise. 

Durand  finished  his  lunch  in  about  an  hour,  and 
found  his  way  to  the  polo  grounds  where  he  watched 
an  exhibition  of  the  great  American  game  between 
representative  clubs  of  two  Eastern  cities.  The 
game  finished,  he  made  his  way  back  to  the  city, 
strolled  leisurely  up  Broadway  for  exercise  and  at 
seven  was  again  to  be  seen  at  Delmonico's,  where  he 
again  tempted  the  gods  to  envy  by  reason  of  the 
sumptuousness  of  his  repast.  Satiety  being  reached, 
he  made  his  way  uptown  again  by  cab. 

We  again  see  him  later,  entering  an  uptown 
apartment  house,  and  as  he  will  figure  largely  in 
our  tale,  let  us  be  bold  and  follow  him  into  the 
sanctity  of  his  own  apartments. 

The  spacious  rooms  of  his  domicile  were  richly 
furnished  with  tapestry  hangings  and  oriental  trap 
pings.  Polished  floors  scarcely  showed  through  the 


8  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

coverings  of  Eastern  rugs ;  statuary-capped  pedestals 
were  in  cosy  corners;  the  walls  were  covered  with 
costly  paintings;  scattered  about  were  easy  and 
luxurious  chairs  and  settees  in  leather  and  damask. 
The  library  at  the  back  was  the  veritable  den  of  a 
nabob.  A  large  fireplace  greeted  the  eye  as  one 
entered.  In  the  center  of  the  room  a  chair  of  carved 
antique  design  in  mahogany,  stood  exactly  at  the 
front  of  the  chimney  draft,  while  the  balance  of  the 
furnishings  were  scattered  about  as  if  the  owner 
were  accustomed  to  entertain.  The  sideboard  open 
ing  in  the  wall  told  its  own  story,  and  one  might 
imagine  that  fine  Madeira  and  rare  old  Port  would 
be  visible  should  those  paneled  doors  be  opened. 
Upon  the  richly  carved  table,  whose  beautifully 
carved  and  heavy  legs  seemed  to  give  ample  sup 
port,  lay  the  current  magazines,  a  book  or  two,  and 
some  papers,  a  can  of  odorous  tobacco  and  several 
pipes  and  other  paraphernalia  that  proclaim  a 
bachelor's  home  and  furnish  his  pastime  and  enjoy 
ment.  The  appointments  of  these  rooms,  from  the 
library  to  the  sleeping  room  of  the  owner,  were 
indications  that  their  owner  was  a  lover  of  ease  and 
semi-wealth;  yet,  few  others  had  ever  been  invited 
within  these  precincts,  for  the  owner  preferred  to 
enjoy  them  in  solitude. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DURAND  entered  his  rooms,  handed  his  coat  and 
hat  to  his  only  man  servant,  assuming  a  cold  and 
dignified  manner  that  came  easily  to  him,  returned 
the  "  good  evening "  given  and  walked  into  the 
library,  his  favorite  haunt  where  he  often  sat  and 
smoked  and  schemed.  The  time  was  early  summer 
and  not  very  warm,  and  as  usual  when  moody  or 
perplexed,  he  ordered  a  fire  built  upon  the  hearth, 
watching  the  process  of  its  building  with  apparent 
interest. 

'  You  may  go  now,  Perkins,"  he  said,  when  it 
was  flaming  up  brightly.  "  I  shall  not  want  you 
again  to-night." 

Perkins  left  the  room  to  return  a  moment  later. 

'  Your  mail,  sir,"  he  said  as  he  placed  one  letter 
upon  the  table  and  withdrew. 

Taking  no  notice  of  the  letter,  as  though  he 
might  think  it  the  receipt  for  the  gas  bill  or  a  state 
ment  from  his  tailor,  he  seated  himself  in  the  com 
fortable  and  spacious  chair  already  described; 
reached  for  his  pipe  and  box  of  tobacco,  and  with 


io  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

deliberate  movements  filled  the  former  to  the  brim; 
lighted  a  waxed  match  from  a  silver  safe  which  he 
took  from  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and,  as  he  blew  out 
a  great  cloud  of  smoke,  flicked  the  burned  match 
into  the  fire  before  he  settled  back  to  think, — and  I 
was  about  to  say,  to  dream.  But  dream  is  hardly 
the  word,  for  Durand  never  indulged  in  dreams 
while  awake;  solid  thought  and  consideration  were 
his  instead.  A  man  at  ease  and  alone  can  think 
properly.  To  the  man  with  a  full  stomach  thinking 
becomes  philosophizing.  A  certain  amount  of  re 
trospection  is  good  for  one  when  a  crisis  is  near  at 
hand.  Intuitively  Durand's  thoughts  turned  back 
to  the  pastoral  idyl  of  his  childhood ;  to  the  struggle 
through  his  youth,  a  struggle  with  poverty  as  his 
father  battled  to  win  the  rural  acres  by  hard  work 
and  economy;  how  as  the  years  went  by  his  father 
partially  succeeded  and  he  and  the  good  old  mother 
had  sacrificed  everything  for  him,  their  only  son. 
Yet  he  did  not  experience  any  deep  emotions  of 
love  or  gratitude  on  this  account. 

He  thought  of  his  college  days,  of  his  classmates 
in  particular;  wondered  where  each  was;  recalled 
many  instances  of  those  days  spent  in  college,  pleas 
ant  and  unpleasant ;  but  in  none  of  his  thoughts  did 
a  feminine  form  or  voice  enter.  No,  this  was  not 
for  him.  His  thoughts  ran  on  to  the  time  he  had 
come  to  New  York,  of  the  meager  salary  that  had 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  n 

been  his, — how  magnificent  it  looked  then,  but  how 
small  and  mean  now.  Tracing  his  existence  method 
ically  down  through  the  decade  he  had  served  the 
bank,  his  thoughts  stopped  as  he  came  abruptly 
against  the  incident  of  the  day. 

Many  men  who  suddenly  find  themselves  thrown 
out  of  employment  have  been  unnerved ;  some  have 
despaired  and  wept;  others  have  found  a  remedy  in 
suicide,  but  as  this  man's  mind  reverted  to  his  dis 
charge,  for  the  first  time  in  many  days  he  smiled. 
Graham  came  into  his  mind.  "  It  is  something  to 
be  great,"  he  said  aloud.  Then  he  added,  "  But  it 
is  greater  to  be  rich." 

However,  he  was  not  buoyed  up  by  reason  of  his 
discharge.  Far  from  it,  he  really  regretted  it;  yet 
he  regretted  not  because  he  might  be  idle,  but  the 
bank  had  been  of  much  use  to  him.  He  had  made  its 
interests  subservient  to  his  own,  and  at  this  he  again 
smiled,  but  his  great  assurance  and  complacency 
held  him  up  and  over-rode  anything  adverse  that 
presented  itself.  Refilling  his  pipe  he  rested  back 
and  going  over  the  position  carefully,  murmured 
aloud  "What  next?" 

Leaving  Durand  to  his  own  thoughts,  not  intrud 
ing  until  later  upon  his  reveries,  let  us  explain  fur 
ther  regarding  this  man.  He  has  been  a  partial 
enigma,  a  sort  of  man  of  mystery. 

Considering  Durand's  character  there  was  much 


12  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

in  him,  as  a  man  of  business,  to  admire.  Method 
ical  and  precise  describes  him  well ;  yet  he  had  little 
regard  for  the  rights  of  others,  using  these  rights  to 
his  own  advantage  on  all  occasions,  yet  always  sub 
ordinating  himself  and  all  his  interests,  if  need  be, 
to  one  thing.  In  the  make  up  of  this  man  there  was 
one  motive,  one  idea,  one  thought  that  permeated 
his  brain  at  all  times,  one  slogan  that  enthralled  him 
as  it  led  him  on.  It  was,  to  make  money.  At  the 
shrine  of  this  goddess  whom  he  worshipped,  he  had 
sacrificed  all  pleasure  that  was  not  selfish.  He  had 
not  allowed  others  to  entertain  him,  knowing  that 
entertainment  would  be  expected  in  return;  his 
selfishness  prompted  him  to  reserve  the  beauty  and 
sumptuousness  of  his  quarters  to  himself.  Dining  at 
home  or  down  town  alone,  yet  dining  well :  person 
ally  denying  himself  nothing,  giving  nothing  away; 
seldom  visiting  his  old  home  or  parents,  spending 
his  holidays  by  himself.  He  kept  down,  so  far  as 
possible,  expenses,  yet  at  the  same  time  enjoying 
many  things  that  are  given  those  of  wealth  and  re 
finement.  Such  was  he  now.  But  there  had  been  a 
time  when  he  had  believed  and  practised  the  adage 
of  Shakespeare  that  "  lowliness  is  young  ambition's 
ladder." 

Entering  the  employ  of  the  bank  he  was  submis 
sive  and  tractable,  familiarizing  himself  with  all 
the  details  of  its  workings.  His  particular  task  was, 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  13 

as  we  have  said,  in  the  investment  department,  to 
which  he  applied  himself  with  a  display  of  vigor  and 
adaptability.  His  position  there  gave  him  excel 
lent  opportunity  to  study  finance  from  the  inside.  It 
did  not  take  him  long  to  discern  certain  things.  In 
deed  his  perception  was  acute,  and  seeing  these 
things  he  was  not  long  in  arriving  at  certain  and 
what  proved  to  be  beneficial  conclusions. 

The  things  he  saw  were  these.  At  certain  inter 
vals  the  prices  of  securities  as  dealt  in  by  the  bank 
on  the  stock  exchange  were  subject  to  wide  fluctu 
ations  in  value,  to  periods  of  inflation  when  values 
would  soar  skyward,  when  tales  of  fortunes  so 
colossal  as  to  be  "  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice  " 
w^ere  common.  In  many  cases  he  knew  these  stories 
to  be  true.  At  other  times  he  witnessed  the  shrink 
ing  of  values,  saw  ruin  and  failure  about  him,  read 
of  suicides  and  wrecked  homes,  caused  by  the 
market  being  demolished.  He  saw  no  reason  for 
the  swinging  of  the  pendulum  of  finance  on  the  bad 
side,  not  that  it  caused  him  pangs  of  sympathy.  He 
heard  talk  in  the  bank  of  "  scale  buying "  during 
these  panics. 

Among  the  other  things  he  observed  was  that  in- 
his  capacity  as  accountant  it  happened  invariably 
that  when  values  were  high,  the  stocks  were  taken 
from  the  vaults  and  disappeared  into  the  great  maw 
of  the  market.  Also,  that  during  the  depression  the 


14  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

bank's  funds  were  used  freely  in  acquiring  great 
numbers  of  shares  that  went  into  the  vaults  of  the 
bank  to  disappear  again  when  prices  were  higher. 

Now  Durand  was  impressionable,  especially  where 
money  was  concerned.  Indeed  he  early  counted  on 
acquiring  a  fortune,  and  after  two  or  three  years  of 
service  readily  saw  the  manipulation  and  instantly 
came  to  believe  that  this  particular  institution 
worked  in  collusion  with  other  banking  houses 
and  trust  companies,  and  he  was^  impressed  that  by 
watching  the  affairs  that  daily  passed  through  his 
hands,  he  was  holding  his  finger  upon  the  financial 
pulse  of  the  New  World,  so  to  speak.  Knowing, 
then,  that  the  unsuspecting  public  were  fleeced  at  the 
will  of  the  manipulator,  he  believed  that  the  pulse 
he  counted  daily  was  the  pulse  of  the  power  behind 
these  manipulations. 

Seeing  these  things,  the  inward  desire  for  wealth 
grew  daily,  as  he  saw  others  prosper  by  the  means 
described.  He  next  carefully  looked  over  every  de 
tail  of  speculation,  and  feeling  that  his  inside  knowl 
edge  would  steer  him  away  from  the  shoals  and  the 
pitfalls  that  had  engulfed  others,  he  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  the  reward,  if  successful,  was  worth 
a  trial.  Knowing  what  the  marts'  creators  were  do 
ing,  how  could  he  lose? 

Believing  that  his  conclusions  were  the  voices  of 
fate  calling  to  him  to  turn  into  the  by-ways  it 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  15 

pointed  out,  that  the  tide  in  his  affairs,  if  taken 
at  the  flood  would  lead  on  to  fortune,  he  made 
small  investments  from  time  to  time,  watching 
closely  the  attitude  and  the  activities  of  the  bank, 
following  out  their  lead  as  to  the  kinds  and  varie 
ties  of  securities  that  he  purchased.  As  his  profits 
accumulated,  he  reinvested  the  profits  and  shortly  he 
had  made  an  amount  that  to  him  before  had  looked 
fabulous.  As  his  prosperity  continued  and  grew 
he  moved  from  the  one  back  room  that  for  several 
years  had  served  as  his  home  and  went  to  the  apart 
ment  that  we  have  described.  Sagely  and  without 
fear  he  walked  on  in  his  pace  of  greed  and  gain, 
suffering  no  pangs  of  conscience  that  he  was  dis 
honorably  using  others'  secrets  for  his  own  profit. 
No,  not  he,  but  rather  was  he  elated  at  each  new 
turn  of  fortune's  giddy  whirl  that  in  its  revolution 
dispensed  shekels  in  his  lap.  But  now  this  was  over, 
the  days  of  sure  speculation  when  he  knew  the 
secret  of  how  far  to  go  and  what  to  do.  This  was 
the  one  thing  he  regretted. 

Durand  went  carefully  over  the  events  of  the 
day  and  again  smiled  as  he  thought  of  the  lapse  of 
time  since  he  first  speculated  and  smiled  again  as  he 
thought  that  the  bank  was  a  long  time  in  learning 
his  secret,  and  in  order  to  do  so  had  resorted  to  the 
insidious  method,  as  he  thought,  of  putting  secret 
service  men  upon  his  track,  for  banks  can  know  if 


16  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

they  care  to,  who  are  the  customers  of  brokerage 
firms.  They  had  ferreted  out  his  secret,  and  as  if  it 
were  the  proper  deduction  under  the  circumstance  he 
said  aloud  and  almost  with  glee,  "  I  rejoice  that  they 
deferred  investigating  me  as  long  as  they  did." 

This  evening  he  spent,  as  he  spent  many  others,  in 
solitude,  and  as  the  clock  on  the  mantel  chimed  ten, 
he  arose  preparatory  to  retiring. 

The  letter  Perkins  had  laid  on  the  table  greeted 
his  eye.  He  took  it  up.  The  postmark  was  un 
known  to  him.  Leisurely  he  tore  open  the  envelope 
and  read : 

"  My  dear  Durand : — Recall  if  you  can  one  of 
your  college  friends  whose  name  is  attached  below. 
Can  you  come  here  for  a  few  days  ?  ( See  address 
on  this  stationery  as  above.)  Matters  of  importance 
to  you  and  to  me  prompt  my  request.  I  am  dying 
and  wish  to  consult  you  about  business  matters. 
Come  if  possible." 

The  letter  was  signed  "  Mortimer  James."  Du 
rand  turned  the  envelope  about  and  again  studied 
the  postmark. 

"  Huh,"  he  murmured,  "  can  go  as  well  as  not, 
but  where  is  this  place  located  ?  " 

A  guide-book  of  resorts  located  the  place  for  him 
as  in  the  Adirondacks,  giving  him  the  key  of  the 
route  thereto. 

Passing  the  sleeping  room  of  Perkins,  he  called 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  17 

out,  "  Pack  my  effects  in  the  large  bag  early  in  the 
morning  and  call  me  early  also.  I  am  going  North 
ward  for  a  few  days'  outing.  You  may  have  your 
own  time  until  I  return." 

If  Perkins  was  surprised  that  his  master  should 
do  this  unusual  thing,  his  training  forbade  any  re 
ply  otherwise  than  a  respectful,  "  Yes,  sir." 

2 


i8  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THROUGH  the  wooded,  mountainous  and  north 
ern  part  of  the  Empire  State  on  a  joyous  summer 
day  could  be  seen  a  buckboard,  making  its  way  over 
a  rough,  rutty  and  root-grown  road,  under  leafy 
canopies  that  afforded  almost  perpetual  shade,  by 
brooks  where  the  speckled  trout  in  appreciation  of 
the  sunlight  vaulted  high  and  vaingloriously  showed 
their  brilliantly  dotted  sides  and  white  underneath. 
Here  and  there  a  deer  scented  the  encroaching  occu 
pants  of  the  buckboard,  and  all  unseen  by  these 
occupants  threw  up  its  head  and  darted  away,  its 
hoofs  beating  on  the  dry  brush  and  leaves  under 
neath.  These,  with  the  cawings  of  crows  and  the 
carol  of  innumerable  small  birds,  were  all  the  com 
pany  the  travelers  had.  It  was  before  the  days 
when  railroads  penetrated  the  forests,  before  the 
ruthless  destroyer-for-gain  had  carried  away  the 
beauties  that  the  country's  flora  afforded. 

Beside  the  driver  and  the  baggage  stored  behind 
was  he  whose  presence  accounted  for  the  journey. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  19 

Straight  and  lofty  he  carried  his  head,  while  his 
shoulders,  square  and  broad,  gave  promise  of  great 
strength.  His  eyes  were  dark  gray,  his  hair  black. 
About  him  was  visible  the  mark  of  pride  and  good 
breeding.  His  face  was  a  trifle  too  elongated  to  be 
beautiful,  yet  bore  a  strange  and  piratical  outline 
that,  combined  with  his  deep-set,  astute  eyes  and  his 
beak-like  nose,  would  to  those  who  admired  his 
style,  be  interesting.  If  there  was  a  feature  more  po 
tent  than  another  it  was  the  strong,  square  chin  that 
gave  evidence  of  great  strength,  partially  over 
shadowed  by  a  black  mustache  that  covered  the 
mouth  so  effectively  that  it  could  only  be  seen  when 
he  smiled,  which  was  seldom.  But  after  seeing  the 
whole  face,  excepting  the  mouth,  the  physiogno 
mist  would  have  guessed  the  mouth  was  cruel.  The 
easy  manner  of  the  man,  combined  with  the  un 
wonted  facial  aspect,  would  also  give  evidence  of 
the  ability  to  call  forth  in  exigencies  great  cunning, 
deceit  and  intrigue. 

As  they  rode  along,  Herbert  Durand,  for  it  was 
none  other  than  he,  who  has  been  introduced  before, 
thought  it  not  amiss  to  question  the  driver.  Hav 
ing  no  defined  idea  as  to  why  he  had  been  sum 
moned,  he  realized  that  foreknowledge  was  fortifi 
cation,  if  not  predomination,  and  he  sought  to  make 
himself  acquainted  with  facts  pertaining  to  his  sum 
mons. 


20  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  You  are  connected  with  the  hotel  at  P of 

course?  "  he  said  to  the  driver. 

"  Yes,  I  am." 

"  Do  you  see  Mr.  James  often ;  he  is  at  present 
stopping  there  I  think  ?  "  peering  at  the  newcomer 
out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

:'  Yes,"  was  replied,  "  I  see  him  on  the  veranda 
nearly  every  day." 

"How  is  he?" 

"  Not  much  better,  sir,  but  like  all  who  come  here 
with  his  disease  he  thinks  he  is  growing  better." 

"And  his  disease?" 

"  Consumption,  sir." 

A  light  broke  over  the  face  of  Durand.  He  saw 
why  he  had  been  so  urgent;  but  the  light  was  in 
stantly  followed  by  a  frown,  as  he  inwardly  thought, 
"  Dying  probably  and  in  poverty  also,  else  why 
should  I  be  invited  to  visit  him?  " 

Turning  to  the  driver  he  laconically  asked,  "  Are 
his  surroundings  proper?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  if  you  mean  as  to  the  hotel.  He  has  a 
nurse  and  all  that  money  can  do  for  him,  sir.  He  is 
rich,  you  know." 

Durand's  frown  was  affected  instantly  by  the  old- 
time  stolid  expression,  but  his  musings  were  far 
different  than  a  moment  before.  Like  unto  the 
blood-hound  in  quest  of  fugitive  humanity  and  once 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  21 

more  upon  the  trail,  his  cunning  divined  a  different 
reason  for  the  summons. 

The  sun  was  yet  an  hour  high  and  illuminated 
the  small  lake  in  front,  whose  sheen  cast  beautiful 
streamers  over  the  broad  clearing  wherein  was  lo 
cated  this  Mecca  for  sick  humanity  which  they 
sought.  Science  had  not  yet  decreed  that  the  able- 
bodied  and  diseased  should  be  separated,  and  the 
sick  and  the  strong  mingled  together,  particularly  if 
the  sick  were  rich. 

On  the  veranda  that  surrounded  the  hotel  at  the 
end  of  the  circuitous  drive  up  which  Durand's  con 
veyance  slowly  came,  a  score  of  people  were  seated 
exchanging  pleasantries  and  keeping  watch  of  the 
approaching  buckboard.  One  of  their  number  kept 
counsel  as  to  his  knowledge  of  their  coming,  as  he 
cared  not  for  them  to  know  the  newcomer's  mission. 
He  arose  and  walked  down  the  veranda  as  Durand 
alighted.  He  said  in  weakened  tones,  "  Mr.  Her 
bert  Durand  I  am  sure."  He  followed  up  these 
words  by  a  spasm  of  coughing. 

Durand  looked  uncomfortable  meanwhile,  but 
when  the  paroxysm  passed  he  replied,  "  You  are 
Mr.  James,  my  old  friend  Mortimer,  of  whom  I 
have  not  heard  these  ten  years." 

;'  Your  own  fault,"  said  James.  "  I  have  looked 
for  you  and  have  inquired  among  our  classmates 
several  times,  but  so  completely  did  you  hide  your- 


22  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

self  that  I  only  located  you  recently."  Violent 
coughing  again  convulsed  his  frame. 

"  Come,"  he  added  when  it  had  passed,  "  I  have 
your  room  prepared  for  you,  and  dinner  will  be 
served  soon." 

A  light  of  pleasure  shone  in  James'  face,  such 
a  light  as  the  other  guests  had  not  seen  during  their 
acquaintance.  They  remarked  about  it  as  he  with 
Durand  passed  over  the  broad  veranda  and  into  the 
hostelry. 

We  will  not  follow  too  closely  into  the  rehabili 
tation  of  friendship  of  these  two,  a  friendship  that 
had  commenced  during  college  days.  This  alli 
ance  surprised  the  friends  of  James  who  regarded 
him  as  a  "  jolly  good  fellow,"  thoughtful,  careful 
as  to  the  right  and  the  opinion  of  others,  qualities 
that  are  bound  to  make  friends,  without  avarice. 
Durand  had  scarcely  any  friends  save  James,  and  as 
remarked  by  the  friends  of  the  former,  possessed 
traits  and  characteristics  that  were  the  exact  an 
tithesis  of  the  other.  James  had  refused  to  accept 
membership  in  the  fraternity  to  which  he  had  been 
elected,  and  in  which  Durand  had  been  "  black 
balled."  He  had  refused  to  become  one  of  a  theatre 
party  to  which  Durand  had  not  been  invited.  This 
had  happened  repeatedly.  Ladies  whom  the  college 
men  knew  in  the  little  city  wherein  was  located  the 
college  of  which  we  speak  found  it  impossible  to 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  23 

secure  the  attendance  of  James  at  their  little  social 
affairs  unless  Durand  was  to  be  present,  and  it  was 
noted  that  James  when  invited  to  these  affairs  never 
gave  a  decisive  answer  at  once,  delaying  his  accept 
ance  for  a  day  or  so.  It  was  said  he  waited  to  give 
Durand  an  opportunity  to  receive  his  invitation,  and 
if  the  latter  was  not  forthcoming,  the  former  was 
met  with  a  pleasant  but  not  uncertain  declination. 
Men  noticed  this,  and  surmising  they  had  misunder 
stood  the  cold  and  conceited  Durand  had  tried  to 
gain  his  friendship,  and  if  possible  his  confidence, 
and  to  understand  him;  to  discover  if  possible  the 
reason  for  the  preference  of  the  man  they  courted 
and  desired  for  one  they  almost  despised.  But  in 
all  these  cases  Durand  so  snubbed  his  would-be 
friends  that  they  had  gone  back  to  their  comrades 
and  reported  him  unapproachable  and  undeserving. 
He  must  be  a  magician  who  at  his  will  can  throw  a 
mighty  spell  about  whom  he  cares  to,  or  can  with 
equal  dexterity  send  out  a  disagreeable  atmosphere, 
so  they  argued. 

So  might  many  instances  be  enumerated  to  show 
this  strange  attachment  that  had  existed  between 
two  men  who,  as  has  been  already  stated,  were  vastly 
different.  Money  affairs  were  said  to  worry 
Durand,  as  they  have  worried  many  young 
collegians,  and  it  was  even  hinted  that  Durand 
made  use  of  this  friendship  to  further  his  own 


24  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

finances.  So  it  was  not  so  very  strange  that 
Mortimer  James  through  the  medium  of  his  old 
classmates  had  failed  to  locate  the  recreant  Durand. 

Dinner  over,  James  feebly  led  the  way  to  his  own 
suite,  and  when  he  and  Durand  were  comfortably 
seated  in  the  little  back  parlor,  he  inquired,  "  Du 
rand,  what  of  yourself?" 

Now  Durand  cared  little  to  go  into  details  of  his 
experience,  and  fearing  to  arouse  the  distrust  of  his 
colleague,  thought  best  to  give  the  semblance  of  a 
story  regarding  himself,  which  he  did,  telling  of  his 
connection  with  the  bank  for  years,  omitting  to  state 
his  dismissal  from  the  same,  also  the  fact  regarding 
his  speculations. 

"  Have  you  been  with  the  bank  long?  "  inquired 
James. 

"  Yes,  sir,  years." 

"  They  have  confidence  in  you,  that  is  certain." 

Durand  saw  what  was  on  James'  mind,  and  wish 
ing  to  stimulate  a  notion  that  the  bank  had  confi 
dence  in  himself,  said,  "  Oh,  yes,  the  president  and 
I  are  quite  chummy,"  and  he  laughed.  "  You  know 
I  have  charge  of  the  investment  accounts  and  only 
yesterday  I  was  called  into  his  office,  and  we  dis 
cussed  the  topic  for  some  little  time." 

The  eyes  of  the  other  lit  up  with  the  old-time 
confidence  that  Durand  knew  so  well. 

"  I  hope  your  salary  is  large;  no  doubt  it  is." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  25 

"  Nominally  large,  yes.  On  it  I  have  been  by  a 
course  of  frugality  able  to  accumulate  a  small  sum 
that  in  time  I  hope  to  see  enlarged."  As  he  re 
ferred  to  his  fortune  as  small,  his  eyes  scrutinized 
the  other  closely  as  if  searching  for  its  effect. 

"  A  good  sign,  a  good  sign,"  added  the  other. 
"  Honest  accumulations  are  marks  of  thrift  and 
straightforwardness.  I  welcome  the  sign." 

Had  James  grown  out  from  under  the  influence  of 
the  latter  during  their  parting,  there  was  no  doubt 
now  but  he  was  again  under  the  sway  of  the  latter' s 
will  and  had  full  confidence  in  him. 

"  But  of  yourself,  Mortimer,  what  of  you?  Here 
I  am  talking  about  myself  as  if  I  were  invited  here 
just  to  let  you  know  how  I  have  fared.  Now  let's 
get  around  to  something  more  interesting.  Tell  me 
of  yourself." 

"  I  am  loath  to  change  a  pleasant  subject  for  an 
unpleasant  one,"  was  the  rejoinder.  "  Yet  why 
shrink  from  telling  you  of  my  unpleasant,  unhappy 
existence  of  the  past  few  years.  Herbert  Durand, 
look  upon  me." 

His  eyes  dilated,  the  hectic  fever  plainly  showed 
in  his  cheek,  and  unchecked  excitement  shook  his 
frame.  "  What  I  say  to  you  I  have  never  before 
repeated.  Look  upon  me  and  behold  a  man  like 
Esau  of  old  who  sold  his  birthright  for  paltry  gold, 
and  is  giving  his  life  besides." 


26  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  invalid  leaned  back  to  rest  and  was  seized 
with  a  coughing  spell  so  violent  as  to  cause  the  cold 
blooded  Durand  to  fear  for  the  safety  of  his  friend 
and  to  proffer  assistance. 

James  waved  him  back  and  resumed,  "  When  my 
college  days  were  over  and  I  was  full  of  hope,  I  cast 
about  for  a  vocation  that  would  be  to  my  liking  and 
one  that  would  prove  remunerative  enough  for  me 
to  marry  on.  By  the  way,  Durand,  do  you  re 
member  the  name  of  the  girl  I  used  to  speak  of  dur 
ing  our  former  acquaintance?  No?  Well,  'tis  not 
surprising;  women  had  few  charms  for  you.  Well, 
that  girl  is  the  one  I  then  hoped  to  marry,  Helen 
Reed,  a  sweet  womanly  girl  whom  I  loved  passion 
ately,  and  through  whose  advice  and  encouragement 
I  succeeded  fairly  well  at  college." 

"  Yes,  at  the  head  of  the  class,"  commented  the 
other. 

"  Well,  as  I  said,  not  having  yet  settled  on  any 
business,  I  had  leisure  for  a  year,  time  enough  for 
me  to  make  acquaintances  in  the  society  of  the 
small  city  where  I  then  lived.  And  at  a  small  house- 
party  I  met  another.  Witty,  vivacious,  pretty,  yet 
changeable  and  at  times  irritable  by  reason  of  ill 
health,  was  the  petted  woman  of  whom  I  now  speak. 
She  was  the  heiress  to  a  million,  as  rumor  had  it, 
and  both  her  parents  were  dead.  But  why  prolong 
the  story?  I  broke  off  my  engagement  with  Helen 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  27 

Reed,  and  not  being  able  to  withstand  the  glitter 
of  gold,  I  married  this  petted  woman  of  fortune.  I 
know  I  deserve  censure  for  the  adjective  used  in  de 
scribing  her  and  don't  misunderstand  me,  I  never 
gave  her  reason  to  think  I  regretted  my  change  of 
affection.  Yet  at  times  her  shifting,  effervescing 
nature,  so  different  from  the  quiet  woman  whom  I 
had  first  loved,  made  me  feel  that  I  had  made  a 
mistake  and  paid  dearly  for  the  price  of  gold. 

"  During  our  second  married  year,  a  child  came 
to  us,  a  daughter  who  took  the  place  the  mother 
should  have  held  in  my  heart.  Soon  after  this  the 
mother  was  taken  sick,  'twas  a  family  disease,  con 
sumption  at  that,  which  weakened  her  highly 
nervous  body  and  to  my  sorrow  carried  her  off.  I 
say  sorrow  because  my  respect  for  her  had  grown, 
even  though  at  times  she  was  highly  exacting  and 
nervously  irritable.  Her  love  for  me  and  the 
presence  of  the  baby  made  me  quite  a  man  again. 
Through  all  her  sickness  I  could  do  for  her  what 
she  would  allow  none  other  to  do,  attending  her 
every  want  while  the  nurse  sat  by  and  wondered  at 
my  fortitude  and  strength. 

"  Finally  she  died,  leaving  to  me  the  care  of  the 
darling  daughter  whose  name  she  had  chosen  to  be 
'  Olive,'  together  with  her  large  fortune." 

The  other's  eyes  dilated.  Had  James  suspicions 
of  the  other's  avarice,  he  would  have  heard  Durand's 


28  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

breath  coming  and  going  fast,  evidence  that  he 
labored  under  great  excitement. 

James  continued.  "  The  fact  of  the  fortune  nearly 
appalled  me,  not  but  what  I  could  manage  it.  In 
deed,  I  did  that  for  a  few  years.  I  knew  it  was  all 
safely  invested,  yet  I  was  overcome  by  the  amount 
the  footing  showed  had  been  transferred  to  my  own 
name,  and  this  was  the  first  time  I  really  possessed 
the  secret  of  the  size  of  my  wife's  fortune,  having 
never  asked  her  regarding  its  magnitude.  To  have 
asked  this  would  have  humiliated  my  pride.  You 
know  how  I  felt  about  it,  Herbert,  don't  you?  " 

The  other  answered  "  Perfectly,"  although  a  fine 
sentiment  of  that  kind  was  entirely  foreign  to  his 
nature. 

James  continued.  "  I  have  paid  dearly  for  the 
price  of  gold.  Durand,  beware  lest  you  do  the 
same." 

Durand  winced;  why,  he  did  not  know. 

"  First  I  gave  up  love  and  happiness ;  next  I  gave 
up  health  and  joy  of  living.  For  my  devotion  to 
my  wife  through  her  illness,  had  weakened  my  own 
physical  vitality  and  unknowingly  I  had  become  a 
prey  to  "  the  white  plague," — hence  my  condition 
now.  Her  disease  by  contact  has  become  my  dis 
ease;  her  fate  is  to  be  mine." 

While  Durand  knew  the  sequel  of  the  story  would 
make  him  glad  that  he  came,  and  that  James,  by  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  29 

time  the  sequel  was  really  enacted  would  be  dead, 
yet  he  tried  to  affect  a  semblance  of  humanity,  and 
so  said : 

"Don't  say  so;  don't,  Mortimer,  old  man.  It's 
bad  enough  to  be  sure,  but  brace  up.  You  are  far 
from  the  end  and  miracles  are  said  to  happen  right 
along.  Who  knows  but  something  of  the  kind  may 
come  to  you.  I  know  a  physician  who " 

"  Don't  talk  physician  to  me,"  answered  James. 
'  They  are  all  right  of  course,  but  are  baffled  and 
outdone  by  my  disease.  At  times  I  believe  I  am 
better,  as  do  all  my  similarly  afflicted  friends;  yet 
again,  I  am  aware  of  my  peril  and,  as  I  said  before, 
my  fate.  But,  Durand,  I  have  fought  the  good 
fight,  I  have  tried  to  keep  the  faith,  and  but  for  my 
daughter,  Olive,  now  five  years  old,  I  would  not 
care  to  stay  longer.  I  might  have  added  to  the  list, 
the  woman  whose  love  I  spurned,  but  I  did  not,  for 
she  now  could  hardly  be  expected  to  concern  herself 
about  me,  much  less  allow  herself  to  care  whether  I 
am  alive  or  not.  And  yet  I  am  to  make  a  request  of 
her,  and  if  she  be  found  her  generous  nature  will 
then  forgive  me,  to  this  extent,  at  least,  that  she 
will  comply.  But  of  that  later.  During  my  married 
life  I  lived  somewhat  secluded,  and  for  this  reason 
I  have  found  no  intimate  friend  since  I  considered 
you  one.  There  are  none  in  fact  on  whom  I  desire 


30  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

to  cast  the  mantle  of  the  custodianship  of  my  child 
and  wealth." 

What  then,  thought  Durand,  did  he  call  me  here 
for?  Perhaps  a  trust  company  will  be  named  to 
execute  his  will  and  be  the  guardian  of  his  child. 
But  the  thought  had  hardly  formulated  itself  and 
been  telegraphed  to  his  sensibilities  before  James 
leaned  confidentially  forward,  placed  his  hand  on 
Durand's  knee  and  added :  "  None  but  you.  You 
are,  with  your  consent,  to  be  my  executor  and  the 
guardian  of  my  child  Olive." 

"  You  flatter  me,  sir,  with  the  offer,  and  astound 
me  with  the  responsibility.  Do  you  mean  it  ?  "  said 
the  purring  voice  of  Durand. 

"Yes,  I  mean  it,  surely;  the  papers  are  signed. 
After  my  death  nothing  remains  for  you  to  do  but  to 
accept  the  responsibility." 

"  And  the  sum  that  I  will  have  in  charge?  "  asked 
Durand,  his  imprudence  and  haste  overcoming  his 
judgment. 

James  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  impudence  of 
the  question,  but  leaned  forward  and  whispered  in 
Durand's  ear.  The  sum  mentioned  caused  the  color 
to  leave  Durand's  face.  His  friend  did  not  notice 
this. 

The  two  men  sat  and  looked  long  into  each 
other's  faces,  and  strange  to  say,  both  their  thoughts 
ran  along  the  same  channel.  How  long  would  one 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  31 

of  them  be  in  the  land  of  the  living?  Both  had 
noticed  the  shortness  of  breath  of  the  one.  One  had 
experienced  distressing  pain;  the  other  had  seen  its 
reflection  in  his  face. 

As  to  his  fast  coming  end,  James  was  passive, 
while  Durand  secretly  hoped  it  would  not  long  be 
delayed.  James  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  Do  you  think  Helen  Reed  would  undertake  the 
charge  of  my  daughter  ?  "  he  asked. 

Surely  that  would  rid  him  of  a  great  responsi 
bility,  thought  Durand.  The  woman  could  be  well 
paid,  and  as  he  looked  at  it,  that  would  be  an  in 
ducement  to  anybody.  "  Yes,"  he  answered,  "why 
not?  Shall  I  so  arrange  with  her?" 

James  thought  for  some  time  and  faintly  said,  "  I 
desire  it  if  you  will.  She  is  now  a  nurse  some 
where  in  New  York.  I  am  growing  tired,  very," 
as  he  passed  his  hand  across  his  brow,  making  an 
effort  to  arise.  Before  the  other  could  assist  him 
he  fell  back,  back  into  his  chair  and  gasped. 

Durand  coolly  strode  to  him,  and  lifting  the  life 
less  hand,  his  sinister  face  meanwhile  in  doubt,  he 
felt  for  the  pulse. 

"  My  God !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  He  is  dead ;  sooner 
even  than  I  thought." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  house  physician  pro 
nounced  the  cause  of  his  death  as  heart  failure,  in 
duced  by  disease  and  probably  excitement. 


32  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  DAY  or  so  after  Durand's  return  to  New  York, 
he  called  upon  his  former  employer,  Mr.  Charles 
Graham,  president  of  the  institution  in  which  he 
formerly  worked.  Of  course  Mr.  Graham  showed 
no  surprise  at  the  sight  of  Durand,  and  had  Durand 
needed  any  assurance,  the  manner  of  the  bank  presi 
dent  was  reassuring.  Mr.  Graham  could  not  guess 
why  Durand  had  called  upon  him,  but  it  was  policy 
to  be  courteous  always. 

"  Mr.  Graham,"  Durand  said,  "  the  last  time  we 
met  I  was  discharged  from  your  employ,  and  yet 
to-day  I  return  to  ask  a  favor  that  you,  as  president 
of  this  trust  company,  can  grant.  I  wish  advice  from 
time  to  time  concerning  the  investment  of  a  large 
sum  of  money,  so  large  that  even  you  will  marvel 
at  its  size." 

The  urbane  president  purred  softer  than  ever  as 
he  almost  meekly  replied,  "  I  will  gladly  give  you 
my  advice  as  you  request." 

"  I  am  sole  executor  of  a  large  estate,  and  guar 
dian  of  the  child  of  the  testator,"  Durand  promptly 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  33 

returned,  "  and  so  named  without  bond.  The  legal 
requirements  have  been  met  and  the  wealth  turned 
bver  to  me.  The  effects  of  the  estate,  all  bonds  and 
stocks,  will,  of  course,  be  deposited  in  your  vaults, 
and  your  advice  will  be  sought  from  time  to  time 
as  to  the  best  investment  and  so  on." 

The  president  almost  smiled  at  Durand,  as  he  re 
plied,  "  Any  advice  you  may  need  will  be  forthcom 
ing  at  once.  Glad  to  do  it,  and  glad  you  came  to 
us,  sir." 

Durand  arose  to  go  and  as  he  did  so  a  young 
man,  not  over  twenty,  and  with  an  air  denoting 
familiarity  with  the  office  entered.  Graham  has 
tened  to  introduce  Durand. 

"  My  son,  sir :  Mr.  Durand,  Charles  Graham,  Jr. 
Charles,  this  is  Mr.  Durand,  a  customer  of  our 
house." 

He  shook  the  son's  proffered  hand,  also  the 
father's  and  withdrew,  laughing  an  ironical  laugh 
to  himself  and  thinking,  "  Old  Graham  introduced 
his  son,  did  he?  Have  been  in  the  office  fifty  times 
when  the  boy  was  there,  but  this  is  the  first  intro 
duction.  Well,  six  years'  service  gave  me  the  key 
to  certain  dealings  that  Graham  would  not  allow  to 
come  to  light,  and  I  guess  he  will  never  protest  if 
I  want  his  silence  at  the  price  of  mine." 

On  the  death  of  Mortimer  James,  Durand  had 
given  him  a  fitting  burial,  looked  over  the  effects 
3 


34  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

and  found  the  will  naming  him  as  executor  and 
guardian;  had  found  he  had  no  close  relative  save 
the  daughter  Olive.  He  found  Olive  to  be  a  sweet 
child  of  five,  with  a  complexion  to  fit  her  name, 
large  innocent  black  eyes,  and  a  confiding  manner 
that  almost  softened  his  heart.  She  had  been  left  by 
her  father  in  charge  of  an  old  nurse.  To  this  wom 
an  Durand  explained  his  arrangements  henceforth, 
telling  her  of  Helen  Reed  and  that  his  duty  was  to 
find  her,  and  then  the  nurse  would  give  the  custody 
of  the  child  over  to  her  new  monitor.  The  nurse 
regretfully  consented  to  the  arrangement. 

Durand  returned  to  New  York,  bringing  with 
him  the  old  nurse  and  the  child  Olive.  The  second 
day  of  his  search,  his  efforts  were  rewarded  by 
finding  her  whom  he  sought  in  a  well-known  hos 
pital.  He  had  come  in  a  carriage,  bringing  little 
Olive,  together  with  the  old  nurse. 

After  knowing  that  the  woman  had  been  illy  used 
by  Mortimer  James,  he  had  expected  open  re 
bellion  at  the  proposition,  and  had  wisely  decided 
that  Olive's  sweet,  childish  presence,  and  the  re 
semblance  she  bore  to  her  dead  father,  would  assist 
in  securing  the  consent  of  Helen  Reed  to  the  super 
vision  of  the  child.  Durand  seated  himself  in 
the  waiting-room  of  the  hospital,  while  the  matron 
who  had  just  informed  him  that  the  woman  he 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  35 

sought  was  on  their  staff,  went  and  bade  her  to 
come  hither. 

**  Durand's  mind,  as  he  waited,  reverted  to  a  cer 
tain  clause  of  the  will,  the  will  that  he  had  wisely 
brought  with  him  in  case  proof  of  what  he  said 
was  needed;  and  he  wondered  if  the  woman  would 
accept  the  money,  which  this  clause  said  was  hers 
and  which  also  he  had  brought,  even  though  she  did 
accept  the  custodianship  of  the  daughter.  Although 
no  fine  point  of  honor  would  have  stopped  him,  he 
hoped  she  would  hesitate  at  assuming  the  owner 
ship  of  a  fund  that  would  make  her  appear  to  take 
a  bribe  from  a  lost  suitor. 

As  Helen  Reed  entered,  Durand's  face  was  a  puz 
zle.  He  had  expected  to  behold  a  spinster-looking 
individual,  with  straight  lines  and  a  preoccupied 
air.  Instead,  Helen  Reed  looked  a  woman  a  few 
years  under  thirty,  tall  and  graceful,  and  ap 
proached  him  with  an  easy,  confident  mien.  Her 
rich,  luxuriant  blonde  hair  formed  a  coronal  about 
her  head,  and  though  it  bore  a  nurse's  cap,  yet  it 
was  with  the  becomingness  that  a  crown  would 
have  reposed  on  the  head  of  a  queen.  He  noticed  in 
wonderment  the  perfect,  tall  figure,  the  full  lines 
of  womanhood  revealed  beneath  the  white  dress  and 
apron,  but  the  face  caused  him  to  look  twice  into  it 
before  he  spoke,  something  no  woman's  face  had 
done  before.  Full  red  lips,  that  parted  into  curved 


36  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

lines  at  the  ends,  over  a  chin  of  delicate,  yet  firm 
proportions,  eyes  alert  and  of  deepest  blue,  a  nose 
of  exquisite  chiseling,  straight  and  long.  It  is  im 
possible  to  know  where  Durand's  mind  would  have 
led  him  had  not  the  cadence  of  a  low  and  rhythmical 
voice  said  to  him,  "  You  wished  to  see  me,  sir." 

Durand  had  seen  among  James'  effects  several 
pictures  of  Mrs.  James,  a  rather  plain  looking  and 
slightly  built  woman,  and  was  inwardly  soliloquiz 
ing  thus :  "  He  never  would  have  deserted  this 
woman  had  it  not  been  for  the  fortune  of  the  other." 

Her  voice  brought  him  back  to  the  situation. 
Durand  was  a  bit  uncomfortable  at  being  thus 
caught  in  the  act  of  admiring  this  woman  whom 
he  had  not  known  before.  He  was  never  uncom 
fortable  in  the  presence  of  men,  but  just  for  a  mo 
ment  the  presence  of  this  magnificent  looking 
woman  flustered  him  a  trifle.  He  stammered : 
"  Pray  be  seated,  madam.  I  have  matters  of  im 
portance  to  discuss  with  you." 

The  woman  obeyed,  although  her  countenance 
plainly  revealed  surprise  that  an  absolute  stranger, 
one  whose  face  she  already  liked  not,  should  have 
matters  to  discuss  with  her.  Durand  hesitated  a 
moment  before  commencing,  as  if  he  knew  not  ex 
actly  how  to  begin.  Bluntly  he  introduced  his 
mission,  and  bluntly  came  to  the  point. 

"  You  once  knew  Mortimer  James." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  37 

Very  low  came  the  answer,  "  I  did." 
^  "  He  is  dead,"  continued  Durand,  "  and  for  that 
reason  I  am  here  to  see  you." 

He  noticed  the  color  leave  her  face  as  she  said, 
"  What  has  that  to  do  with  me?  " 

Then  she  caught  herself  quickly,  and  added,  "  I 
am  sorry  to  hear  of  his  death." 

"  His  death,  madam,  has  much  to  do  with  you, 
and  with  me."  He  added  this  last  in  a  tone  which 
the  woman  thought  to  be  almost  gleeful. 

"  And  pray  tell  me  how  it  concerns  me,"  she 
said,  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"  In  this  way,"  he  said,  "  it  is  rather  a  long  story, 
and  I  will  follow  brevity  in  the  telling  of  it. 

"Mortimer  James  is  dead,  as  I  said  before;  I 
was  with  him  when  he  died.  He  had  sent  for  me 
two  days  before,  and  I  hastened  to  him,  and  was 
barely  there  in  time.  You  see  he  and  I  wrere  college 
friends.  Among  the  very  few  that  he  selected 
as  his  close  friends  I  was  one,  and  the  one  he  chose 
to  cheer  him  in  his  last  hours,  there  being  none 
other." 

"  His — his  wife,"  faltered  the  other,  "  where  was 
she?" 

"  Dead  a  year  before  this.  She  left  him  the  care 
of  a  child  also." 

The  woman  was  trembling  violently.  "  A  child, 
you  say  ?  " 


38  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Yes,  a  child,  a  daughter  now  five  years  old. 
Beautiful  too,"  he  added,  "  with  her  father's  dark 
skin  and  handsome  eyes  and  his  princely  carriage." 
Again  he  noticed  the  violent  agitation.  "  In  fact," 
he  said,  "  a  most  lovable  little  girl ;  I  have  fallen  in 
love  with  her  already." 

Durand  had  not  thought  but  what  he  desired  to 
let  this  woman  have  the  custody  of  the  child.  In 
fact  he  was  very  anxious  that  this  might  occur.  He 
did  not  see  how  he  could  keep  her  himself,  even 
if  the  will  had  not  stated  he  must  leave  her  with 
Helen  Reed,  providing  she  was  willing.  He  was 
glad  a  man  was  not  mentioned  instead  of  her.  A 
man  might  be  inquiring  into  his  management  of  the 
estate.  A  woman,  not  understanding  business  af 
fairs  so  well  perhaps,  could  be  easily  handled; 
hence  his  persuasiveness  and  the  employment  of 
praise  of  little  Olive  and  the  reference  to  her  like 
ness  to  her  father. 

"  You  say  she  is  a  lovable  child,  Mr.  Durand,"  as 
she  glanced  at  the  name  on  the  card. 

"  You  will  surely  love  her  when  you  see  her." 

Taking  advantage  of  the  point  he  supposed 
gained  here,  he  said :  "  Now  to  business.  Mr. 
Mortimer  James  left  a  will.  Among  its  provisions 
was  one  directing  me  to  place  this  child  in  your 
keeping;  the  expense  of  her  maintenance  of  course 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  39 

to  be  met  from  the  proceeds  of  the  estate,  of  which 
€"am  executor  as  well  as  guardian  of  the  child." 

The  woman  paid  little  attention  to  this. 

"  Olive,  did  you  say,  was  her  name?  " 

Durand  smiled.  He  was  getting  on  finely  he  told 
himself.  "  Yes,  Olive,  a  pretty  name  and  fitting  her 
well,"  he  said.  "  If  you  accept  this  proposition  you 
will  of  course  leave  the  hospital  and  establish  a 
home  for  yourself  and  Olive,  the  expense  of  which 
will  be  taken  care  of  by  me.  What  do  you  say?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  I  know  it  will  interfere  with  your  plans  of 
course;  this  matter  has  interfered  with  mine  largely, 
but  why  complain, — friendship  for  the  dead  makes 
demands  upon  us  that  are  arduous,  but  they  who 
have  not  sacrificed  have  not  fulfilled  their  mission. 
Say  you  will  consent." 

It  was  fine  sentiment  for  him  to  utter  and  one 
he  did  not  feel,  but  was  forced  by  the  exigencies  of 
the  occasion. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "  True,  it  is  good  and 
noble  in  one  to  sacrifice  for  others,  but  I  am  not 
sure  which  way  duty  points;  I  don't  see  as  yet." 

Durand  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  finally  drew 
forth  a  document,  seal  bedecked  and  secured  with 
a  blue  ribbon.  It  was  the  will  of  the  late  Mortimer 
James.  Durand  had  all  along  been  conscious  of  the 
existence  of  a  certain  clause  in  this  document  that 


40  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

he  had  so  far  kept  secret  from  Helen  Reed,  holding 
it  back  to  use  as  a  final  argument.  He  never 
doubted  that  its  provisions  would  meet  with  her  ap 
proval  and  bring  about  the  consummation  of  the 
alliance  between  her  and  the  child.  "  Miss  Reed," 
he  began  in  a  low  tone,  "  there  is  something  else 
to  say  that  is  yet  unsaid.  Aside  from  the  main 
tenance  of  the  child  and  excellent  pay  for  your 
trouble,  our  friend  James  did  not  forget  that  you 
might  have  some  outside  needs  that  you  necessarily 
would  be  obliged  to  supply,  and  in  view  of  this,  let 
me  read  you  a  certain  clause  of  his  will." 

The  woman  made  no  reply;  she  knew  not  what 
was  coming. 

Plainly  Durand  read :  "  And  if  the  said  Helen 
Reed  should  accede  to  my  request  in  the  matter,  as 
suming  control  of  my  daughter  Olive,  I  further 
will  and  desire  that  on  the  day  she  assumes  the 
management  of  said  child,  my  executors  shall  place 

in  her  hands,  together  with  title  to  the  same," 

here  he  read  figures  of  a  large  denomination, — 
"  or  its  equivalent  in  securities." 

Durand  never  looked  at  the  woman  to  see  the 
effect  of  this  clause  in  the  will.  Instead,  he  laid  the 
will  on  his  knee  and  took  from  his  inside  pocket  a 
package  and  held  it  toward  her.  "Here,"  he  said, 
"  I  have  brought  the  securities." 

The  woman  arose,  fire  blazing  in  her  eyes,  her 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  41 

cheeks  aflame,  took  the  proffered  securities  and  with 
vehemence  threw  the  packet  on  the  floor. 

"Cowardly!"  she  exclaimed.  "He  who  jilted 
me  to  insult  me  with  an  offer  of  money  which  he 
won  when  he  cast  me  aside, — cowardly  insult !  For 
the  sake  of  the  little  one,  I  might  have  acceded  to  his 
request,  but  this  offer  of  money  as  a  solace !  Bah ! 
To  live  a  life  of  loneliness  is  bad  enough,  but  this 
insult  is  unbearable.  Take  your  money,  his  money, 
her  money  with  you,  please !  Go  from  my  presence; 
leave,  I  say  go !  " 

"  But,  madam,  calm  yourself;  it  might  be  worse; 
it  might  be  worse.  Few  there  are  who  would  cast 
aside  this  offer;  few  who  would  spurn  a  present  of 
this  magnitude.  I  would  take  it,  and  why  not 
you?" 

'  You  would  take  it,"  she  hotly  exclaimed;  "  then 
you  too  are  base  and  mercenary.  You  were  his  col 
lege  friend.  Then  truly  you  know  what  existed 
between  him  and  me ;  knew  that  I  was  his  promised 
wife;  knew  that  for  a  petted  society  woman  and 
her  money  I  was  cast  aside,  and  you  advise  me  to 
take  his  money.  Never!  You  are  mercenary  or 
you  would  not  so  taunt  me.  For  this  advice  I  dis 
trust  you  already.  You  have  had  little  to  do  with 
real  manhood  or  real  womanhood,  or  you  would 
have  kept  the  contents  of  that  will  to  yourself.  I 
distrust  you." 


42  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Outside,  the  intense  heat  of  a  summer  day  beat 
down  upon  the  carriage.  The  driver  leisurely  shift 
ed  about  on  his  seat,  while  inside,  the  old  nurse 
who  had  grown  tired  at  the  long  delay,  overcome 
by  the  enervating  effect  of  the  heat,  nodded  con 
tentedly.  Olive  amused  herself  eating  the  bon 
bons,  looking  at  the  flowers  and  the  picture  books 
Durand  had  purchased  for  her  en  route,  until  she 
too  grew  tired  of  being  inside  the  carriage,  and  slip 
ping  past  the  sleepy  old  woman,  stepped  out  on  to 
the  sidewalk.  Some  sparrows  were  playing  about 
underneath  the  horses  and  carriage.  They  attracted 
her  attention.  Crumbling  the  bonbons  she  threw 
the  fragments  toward  them.  The  little  fellows,  ever 
alert  for  a  dinner,  flew  down  and  eagerly  devoured 
what  she  threw  to  them.  As  eager  as  they  in  her 
pleasure,  she  was  about  to  repeat  the  performance 
when  she  took  a  step  backward  and  fell  headlong 
off  the  curbing  and  under  the  feet  of  the  horses. 

The  driver  had  noticed  her  presence  outside,  and 
what  she  was  doing,  and  seeing  no  harm  in  it,  he 
had  been  a  pleased  observer,  and  he  hardly  realized 
that  she  had  fallen,  until  her  screams  and  the  rear 
ing  of  the  horses  jarringly  called  his  attention.  The 
woman  inside  awoke  with  a  start.  The  driver 
leaped  down  from  the  box  with  great  alacrity. 

In  the  hospital  the  two  combatants  were  in  the 
midst  of  their  argument  when  through  the  open 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  43 

window  there  floated  the  scream  of  the  girl.  Durand 
rushed  out  and  before  the  clumsy  coachman  or  the 
sleepy  care-taker  could  reach  the  prostrate  child,  he 
was  on  the  scene.  Picking  the  little  one  from  her 
dangerous  position,  and  doing  as  his  quick  mind 
prompted  him  to  do  in  the  interests  of  the  object 
of  his  visit,  he  bore  Olive  into  the  waiting-room, 
while  she  sobbed  in  his  arms. 

"Dear  little  thing,  isn't  she,  sir?"  said  Helen 
Reed.  "Who  is  she?" 

Durand  answered  not  as  if  he  heard  not. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  dearie  ?  "  asked  the  woman  of  the 
child. 

"  Not  very,  I  guess,  only  frightened,"  Durand 
answered  for  her. 

"  May  I  take  her,  sir?  "  she  asked. 

"  Certainly." 

She  seated  herself  as  Durand  placed  the  still  cry 
ing  child  in  her  arms. 

"Pretty  dear,  are  you  very  much  frightened? 
You  might  have  been  killed.  It  is  too  bad  the  horsie 
frightened  the  little  girlie." 

Helen  Reed  dropped  into  the  nursery  vernacular 
while  Durand  indulged  in  an  inward  smile. 

This  sympathy  soon  quieted  Olive.  Then  her 
new-found  friend  looked  her  over  scrutinizingly  for 
possible  bruises,  but  save  for  a  soiled  frock  no  harm 
had  been  done.  For  the  first  time  she  looked  at  her 


44  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

face  closely.  Up  to  this  time,  the  crying  of  the 
child  and  the  excitement  of  the  occasion  had  pre 
cluded  this.  Durand  watched  closely  and  saw  the 
woman  look  again  and  then  turn  pale. 

"  You  know  who  she  is,  do  you  not  ?  " 

No  answer. 

"  I  say,"  he  repeated,  "  you  recognize  the  child?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it  is  his  child,"  and  the  woman 
cried. 

Durand  asked  no  more  questions.  He  saw  the 
struggle  that  was  taking  place  in  her  heart  as  she 
would  convulsively  hug  the  child  to  her  breast,  and 
between  her  tears  hold  her  at  arm's  length  and 
look  into  her  face. 

Slowly  came  to  Helen  Reed  a  reawakening  of  the 
old  passion,  the  old  love  itself  perhaps  rekindled, 
the  lighting  up  of  the  smouldering  embers  that  had 
once  burned  for  the  father,  whom  now  she  despised. 
Phoenix-like  from  the  dead  past  awoke  a  new  desire, 
a  love  second  only  to  a  mother's  affection  and  like 
unto  it,  for  the  child.  She  told  herself  love  for 
the  child  alone  remained  as  a  legacy  of  that  other 
love  that  was  dead.  She  saw  her  duty  now,  the  duty 
that  a  short  time  before  pointed  in  another  direction. 
She  would  keep  the  child.  As  she  raised  her  head 
to  speak,  her  eyes  rested  upon  the  bunch  of  securi 
ties  that  she  had  cast  aside.  Only  for  a  moment  she 
hesitated.  Arising  she  said  in  a  firm  voice : 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  45 

"  I  will  keep  the  child,  Mr.  Durand;  I  cannot  let 
her  go  now;  I  will  keep  her." 

"  Thanks,"  he  said,  "  you  too  saw  the  way  of 
duty  as  I  saw  it."  The  old  cynical  look  came  back 
again  to  his  face,  as  he  glanced  down  at  the  securi 
ties,  and  leaned  forward  to  take  them  up. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Miss  Reed,  that  you  did  not  see 
your  way  to  keep  this  money.  Yet  a  point  of  honor 
of  course  interferes.  This  I  recognize." 

She  looked  him  in  the  eye  and  felt  that  he  was 
lying  when  he  expressed  sorrow  that  she  would 
not  keep  the  money. 

She  answered,  "  The  details  we  can  arrange  to 
morrow.  Come  here  then  in  the  morning  and  all 
regarding  Olive  can  be  arranged.  As  to  this 
money,  Mr.  Durand,  I  have  changed  my  mind;  I 
will  keep  it.  Good  day,  sir." 

With  one  hand  she  took  the  securities  while  the 
other  was  clasped  about  Olive. 

Dumfounded  at  the  latest  developments,  at  the 
sudden  turn  about  in  the  woman,  Durand  mur 
mured  as  he  carried  Olive  back  to  the  carriage: 
"  Ah,  the  peculiarities  of  women.  I  half  believed 
she  would  keep  the  money,  even  though  she  dis 
carded  it  for  a  time." 


46  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  time  was  a  week  later.  Durand  again  sat  in 
the  privacy  of  his  own  apartments,  the  apartments 
that  had  in  the  last  few  days  increased  their  sump 
tuous  appearance.  Imported  antique  rugs  had  been 
added,  costly  paintings  took  the  place  of  those  that 
were  scarcely  less  costly.  Here  and  there  a  touch 
of  things  new  and  expensive  told  of  added  pros 
perity  and  replenished  means. 

Time,  however,  hung  somewhat  heavily  on  his 
hands  to-day.  Not  that  he  disliked  the  life  of  ease 
that  opened  before  him  and  on  which  he  had  just 
entered.  For  this  reason  he  again  dropped  into  a 
retrospective  mood,  just  as  he  had  on  the  night 
of  his  dismissal  from  the  bank.  He  smiled  here  and 
he  frowned  there  as  he  ran  down  to  the  chain  of 
events  that  had  recently  transpired;  smiled  as  he 
thought  of  the  changes  wrought  in  himself,  from  an 
employee's  position  to  the  custodianship  of  an  im 
mense  fortune.  Momentarily  he  paused  and  gave 
way  to  the  thought,  "  I  would  that  it  were  mine  in 
deed  rather  than  in  trust."  He  frowned  as  he 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  47 

thought  of  Helen  Reed's  determination  to  relin 
quish  her  ownership  of  the  funds  left  her  should 
she  assume  the  management  of  Olive,  and  of  the 
change  in  her  intentions  after  she  saw  the  child. 
"Why  did  she  conclude  to  take  this  money?" 
Durand  asked  himself.  "  In  case  she  had  not  I 
could  have  secured  a  receipt  for  the  money,  even 
though  I  signed  the  receipt  myself,  and  none  would 
be  the  wiser.  I  wonder  \vhat  changed  her  mind." 
It  never  occurred  to  him  that  Helen  Reed  distrusted 
him.  A  man  with  guilty  intentions  seldom  suspects 
himself  suspected. 

Going  further  his  mind  again  took  in  the  details 
of  that  interview,  where  she  suddenly  changed  her 
mind  regarding  the  retention  of  the  funds.  He 
recalled  how  this  interview  was  terminated  by  the 
screams  of  Olive,  and  how  her  misfortune  had  as 
sisted  him  in  securing  the  woman's  consent  to  an 
arrangement  that  offered  him  relief. 

"  What  the  devil  could  I  have  done  with  the 
child?"  he  asked  himself.  "A  wise  discretion  on 
the  part  of  her  father,  even  if  presumptuous  and 
audacious,  in  asking  the  woman  he  jilted  to  take  care 
of  his  child.  Now  all  there  is  for  me  to  do  is  to 
furnish  funds  adequate  for  the  maintenance  of  the 
two,"  and  here  he  stopped  as  he  wondered  what  the 
final  outcome  would  be.  A  solution  offered  itself  in 


48  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  words  that  he  audibly  uttered,  "  Wait  for 
something  to  turn  up." 

"  The  sight  of  the  little  one  changed  her  mind 
mighty  sudden.  I  suppose  the  nursery  talk  she  gave 
to  the  little  one  was  what  might  be  expected  of  me, 
had  she  not  consented."  He  chuckled  to  himself; 
how  would  it  appear  to  repeat  what  Helen  Reed 
had  said  to  Olive  ?  Mentally  he  ran  her  words  over, 
but  as  he  finished,  the  words  Helen  Reed  had  ut 
tered  as  she  coddled  the  petite  Olive,  "  you  might 
have  been  killed,"  caused  him  to*  start  and  his  eyes 
to  blink,  his  whole  being  alert.  Even  as  the  hound 
scents  the  prey  afar,  so  in  these  few  words  he 
scented  possibilities.  With  him,  the  word  possi 
bility  did  not  mean  defeat,  it  meant  probability.  It 
meant  something  worth  a  trial.  With  the  ever  in- 
quisitiveness  of  the  man  who  combines  intrigue  with 
business,  Durand  arose  and  procured  the  oft  read 
will  of  his  friend  James.  Again  he  perused  it. 
Eagerly  he  scanned  it  for  something  it  did  not  con 
tain.  He  again  and  again  read  it,  though  there 
was  naught  in  it  that  proclaimed  what  was  to  be 
done  with  the  estate  in  case  of  the  death  of  Olive. 
The  words  mentioned  by  the  nurse,  and  repeated  by 
Durand,  "  you  might  have  been  killed,"  had 
prompted  this  search.  Suppose  she  had  been  killed, 
he  asked  himself.  What  next  ? 

It  was  a  strange  coincidence,  James  had  explained 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  49 

to  him,  that  both  he  and  his  wife  were  the  last  of 
their  line.  No  distant  or  near  relative  could 
come  forward  to  claim  an  interest  in  the  property. 
To  whom  does  the  ownership  of  the  estates  of  per 
sons  who  die  heirless  revert?"  Durand  questioned. 
Calling  Perkins  he  bade  him  summon  a  carriage. 
"  I  will  go  to  the  bank,"  thought  Durand.  "  Mr. 
Graham  will  know  about  such  matters;  I  will  see 
him." 

An  hour  later  he  was  ushered  into  the  presence 
of  the  bank's  high  functionary.  After  the  good- 
days  were  said  and  they  were  seated,  Durand  said, 
"  Mr.  Graham,  I  am  the  executor  of  an  estate  and 
the  guardian  of  a  child,  as  you  are  aware.  Now 
I  do  not  expect  any  change  in  the  status  of  the 
affairs  of  my  ward  or  of  things  pertaining  to  her 
from  the  present  level,  but  an  accident,  slight  to 
be  sure,  came  to  my  protegee  a  little  while  since, 
and  although  she  escaped  unharmed,  yet  the  possi 
bilities  of  death  were  present,  and  since  that  time  I 
have  found  myself  inquiring  as  to  the  disposition  by 
law  of  an  estate  wherein  the  dead  left  no  heirs  or 
relatives." 

Mr.  Graham  scratched  his  head.  "  The  law, 
I  believe,  Mr.  Durand,  provides  that  the  property  of 
those  dying  without  heirs  shall  devolve  to  the  State, 
at  least  that  is  true  in  New  York  State.  That  event 
seldom  happens,  however,  for  various  reasons. 
4 


50  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

First,  some  one  most  always  comes  forward  and 
styles  himself  a  relative  or  the  lawyers  manufacture 
one  first-handed.  An  executor  of  this  day  would 
hardly  be  expected  to  allow  such  money  to  be  turned 
into  the  State's  coffers  when  bills  against  the  estate 
would  consume  it.  Bills  can  be  manufactured  as 
easily  as  relatives." 

"  In  case  of  the  disappearance  of  my  ward,  Mr. 
Graham,  who  would  claim  her  estate?" 

"  No  one  could  unless  absolute  proof  of  her  death 
could  be  furnished." 

Durand  had  for  once  so  far  lost  himself  as  to  be 
no  longer  the  calm  man  of  affairs.  This  Mr. 
Graham  noticed,  and  turning  to  him  suddenly 
asked,  "  My  God,  Mr.  Durand,  you  don't  contem 
plate  kidnapping  this  child,  do  you?" 

"  I  resent  your  implied  insinuation,  Mr.  Gra 
ham."  He  arose  to  go  but  did  not  request  an 
apology.  "  Even  if  I  did  contemplate  something  of 
this  sort  who  would  prevent  me?" 

"  I  would,"  replied  Graham.  "  I  would  brook 
no  such  act  by  you,  sir." 

"  Don't  let  us  quarrel  over  a  fanciful  injury  done 
another,"  continued  Durand  in  a  voice  low  and  reg 
ular  again.  "  You  cannot  afford  to  quarrel  with 
me  or  I  with  you.  Yes,  Mr.  Graham,  I  hold  cer 
tain  secrets  of  this  bank,  and  should  you  gain 
knowledge  of  my  secrets  I  will  expect  you  to  keep 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  51 

them,  even  as  I  have  kept  yours,  but  did  you  di 
vulge  mine  I  would  retaliate  with  the  same  means." 

"  You  say  you  hold  secrets  of  mine,  Durand,  are 
you  sincere  in  saying  it?  " 

"  Perfectly  so.  As  your  employee  I  gained 
knowledge  here  of  damaging  secrets  that  you  would 
scarcely  have  published  before  the  world." 

The  other  sat  unmoved.  "  What  are  those  dam 
aging  secrets?"  incredulously  he  asked. 

"  Simply  this."  Durand  arose  and  continued, 
pointing  his  finger  at  Graham :  "  By  reason  of  the 
colossal  speculation  of  yourself  and  the  directors 
some  two  years  ago  this  institution  became  heav 
ily  long  on  stocks;  on  top  of  this  the  market 
broke  several  points,  wiping  out  the  deposits,  the 
surplus  and  a  part  of  the  capital  of  this  bank.  This 
was  done  in  a  single  day  and  this  insolvent  institu 
tion  was  helped  over  its  difficulty  by  other  banks. 
You  wince,  do  you?  You  thought  this  information 
inviolate  with  you,  but  I  was  not  asleep.  The  in 
vestments  of  this  bank  were  in  my  hands,  and  I 
had  but  to  compute  the  total  cost  and  then  to  arrive 
at  the  deductions  I  have  stated.  I  knew,  sir,  of  the 
frantic  efforts  made  by  your  colleagues,  your 
votaries,  sir,  if  you  please,  in  your  behalf  to  put  the 
stock  market  higher  and  save  you,  and  how 
even  this  was  done.  I  don't  expect  to  carry  into 
force  your  contemplated  suggestion  of  kidnapping, 


52  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

but  if  I  did  and  you  were  cognizant  of  it,  it  would 
little  behoove  you  to  give  information  against  me. 
Good-day,  sir;"  and  he  strode  out,  muttering  to 
himself :  "  I  guess  he  will  pay  proper  deference  to 
me  any  time  I  ask  it.  That  is  the  reason  I  came 
here." 

The  president  sat  for  some  time  in  his  chair, 
white,  speechless  and  dumfounded.  At  last  he  mur 
mured  aloud,  "  He  is  a  villain  to  be  watched.  He 
could  make  things  mighty  bad  for  me  if  he  chose, 
all  through  the  reckless  chances  the  directors  ad 
vised  taking.  Luckily  nothing  criminal  developed, 
yet  did  he  tell  of  this  matter,  confidence  in  me  and 
in  the  bank  would  be  shattered,  so  I  suppose  any 
move  he  makes  I  will  be  obliged  to  countenance. 
This  giving  one  man  sole  charge  of  a  department 
is  fraught  with  danger.  A  change  in  our  manage 
ment  shall  indeed  take  place.  We  will  guard 
against  such  things  in  the  future." 

"  A  lady  wishes  to  see  you,  sir,"  announced  the 
attendant.  "  Here  is  her  card." 

Charles  Graham  looked  at  the  card  and  read 
"  Miss  Helen  Reed." 

He  was  so  dumfounded  at  the  result  of  the  in 
terview  with  the  last  visitor  that  he  did  not  even 
inquire  the  business  of  the  waiting  caller,  but  an 
swered,  "  Show  the  lady  in." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  53 

Helen  Reed  entered.  "  This  is  Mr.  Graham, 
president  of  this  bank,  is  it  not?" 

"  It  is,  madam,  at  your  service ;  be  seated ;  what 
can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  wish  your  advice  regarding  a  matter  of  im 
portance  to  me.  The  truth  is  I  am  in  sore  dis 
tress,  and  as  money  affairs  are  the  cause  of  my 
troubles  I  came  to  you,  knowing  your  standing  and 
the  value  of  your  advice.  The  facts  are  I  recently 
came  into  possession  of  a  large  amount  of  money. 
I  desire  to  give  it  away.  This  money  came  from 
an  estate  upon  which  I  had  no  legal  claim.  It  was  a 
bequest  unsought  and  undesired.  I  wish  to  restore 
this  money  to  the  one  most  interested  in  the  matter, 
the  one  to  whom  it  belongs." 

"  Explain  yourself  further,  madam.  As  presi 
dent  here  I  am  often  importuned  for  advice  and 
come  into  knowledge  of  many  secrets.  You  may 
trust  me." 

"  There  are  no  details.  I  have  a  large  sum  of 
money,"  here  she  held  aloft  a  package,  "  and  wish 
the  title  of  the  same  transferred  to  the  name  of 
Olive  James.  That  is  all." 

Graham  instantly  recognized  the  name  as  that 
of  the  child  of  which  Durand  had  told  him  he  was 
guardian. 

"  Pray  why  to  Olive  James,  the  child  already  has 
a  fortune  has  she  not?  " 


54  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Yes,"  faltered  the  other,  "  but  it  may  fail." 

"  You  distrust  then  the  guardian,  Mr.  Durand?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Graham." 

"  You  know  him  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  slightly." 

"  Very  well.  However,  if  I  were  you  I  would 
hardly  give  the  money  away." 

"I  desire  it;  I  shall  do  it." 

"  If  your  mind  is  settled  upon  that  point,  I  would 
advise  doing  it  secretly.  I  know  Mr.  Durand.  He 
has  told  me  of  you,  and  for  that  reason  I  say,  do  it 
secretly.  The  simplest  way  is  the  best  and  will 
excite  no  curiosity  on  the  part  of  others,  as  might 
be  in  case  the  securities  were  transferred  by  law. 
I  would  advise  that  you  merely  place  the  money 
here  in  the  safety  vaults  of  the  bank  and  to  the 
credit  of  the  child  and  keep  the  matter  a  secret." 

From  a  bag  she  carried  she  took  out  the  packet  of 
securities  that  the  reader  has  heard  of  before,  and 
exchanging  them  for  keys  to  a  private  locker  in  the 
vault  below  started  to  withdraw. 

"  One  word,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Graham,  "  one 
word;  "  he  put  his  fingers  to  his  lips  and  said,  "  be 
careful  of  the  child,  very  careful." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  55 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HELEN  REED,  attired  in  a  loose  morning  gown, 
sat  reading  a  magazine,  her  feet  on  the  polished 
fender  that  guarded  a  small  hearth  fire.  Her 
luxuriant  blonde  hair  was  carefully  arranged  as  if 
she  might  later  expect  a  caller  or  might  herself  go 
out. 

The  room  was  one  of  a  small  suite  which  at 
her  suggestion  had  been  chosen  a  month  before  as 
the  home  of  Olive  and  herself.  The  furnishings, 
also  chosen  by  herself,  were  in  good  taste,  if  not 
expensive.  She  had  declined  to  accept  things  rich 
or  showy  from  Durand,  even  though  he  had  liber 
ally  offered  her  as  much  as  she  chose.  Her  personal 
expenses  were  nominal,  although  Durand  had  as 
sured  her  that  the  estate  could  furnish  her  with  a 
salary  that  was  attractive.  She  had  declined  to  re 
ceive  more  than  an  adequate  maintenance,  disap 
proving  of  his  offer  as  approaching  extravagance. 
If  Olive's  destiny  were  hers  to  shape,  if  Olive's 
future  were  hers  to  mold,  she  had  determined  that 
the  secret  of  the  great  wealth  that  awaited  her 


56  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

should  be  kept  from  her,  and  so  her  own  frugal  yet 
proper  allowance,  together  with  the  allowance  she 
handled  for  Olive  was  on  her  advice  made  corre 
spondingly  small.  "  I  shall  bring  the  child  up  well," 
she  told  Durand,  "  surrounding  her  with  things 
healthy  and  beneficial,  amusements  in  the  right 
amount  shall  be  hers,  clothing  not  gaudy  shall  she 
wear,  and  her  mind  shall  be  directed  along  proper 
lines.  Her  education  shall  be  of  the  best." 

Showing  little  interest,  he  had  consented  to  all 
this.  Hence  these  modest  apartments,  where  with 
two  servants  she  and  Olive  were  living. 

This  particular  morning  Olive  on  the  floor  with 
her  several  dolls  was  amusing  herself,  while  her 
monitor  read.  Looking  up  from  her  magazine, 
Helen  Reed  said,  "  Olive,  come  here  please." 

Olive  had  developed  a  love  for  this  woman  in 
the  month  they  had  been  together  that  was  truly 
the  love  instinct  of  a  girl  child  for  her  mother,  while 
the  other  with  almost  maternal  affection  had  grown 
to  intensely  love  this  sweet  child,  whose  face  and 
tears  had  won  a  large  corner  of  her  heart  the  day 
of  Durand's  visit  to  the  hospital. 

Olive  dropped  her  dolls  and  ran  into  the  open 
arms  of  her  summoner.  "  Yes,  auntie,"  as  she  put 
her  face  up  for  the  proffered  kiss.  The  name 
"  auntie  "  had  been  transferred  from  the  former  old 
nurse  of  Olive  to  Helen  Reed.  She  disliked  not 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  57 

the  title  either,  realizing  that  Olive  must  call  her 
something,  she  had  consented  to  this  new  name 
without  discussion.  Olive  nestled  in  her  arms  a 
moment  and  then  looked  into  her  face. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me,  auntie?  " 

"  We  are  going  driving  Olive  this  morning;  it  is 
pleasant  and  you  know  on  pleasant  days  Mr.  Du- 
rand  sends  a  carriage  for  us.  I  just  received  a  note 
from  him,  saying  that  one  would  be  waiting  at  ten. 
We  shall  get  ready  at  once." 

"  You  are  a  good  auntie,"  said  Olive,  "  and  Olive 
loves  to  drive.  I  wish  you  were  my  mamma;  why 
can't  you  be  my  mamma  ?  Won't  you  please,  for  I 
want  a  mamma  so  badly?" 

Looking  into  the  eager-eyed  childish  face  before 
her,  who  had  been  early  denied  a  mother's  love, 
Helen  Reed  felt  the  hot  tears  rushing  down  her  own 
cheeks,  as  she  thought  of  the  future  and  the  plans 
that  had  been  made  in  other  days. 

"  Why  do  you  cry  ?  "  said  Olive.  "  You  don't 
want  to  be  my  mamma  ?  " 

Hugging  her  tight,  she  kissed  the  innocent  face 
again  and  again  as  she  said.  "  Yes,  dear,  I  will  be 
your  mamma  forever." 

It  was  the  coming  together,  the  joining  of  two 
yearning  hearts,  each  rinding  one  to  love  and  be 
loved  in  return.  For  some  moments  they  sat  thus, 
the  child  looking  confidently  into  the  woman's  face ; 


58  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER 

the  woman  with  satisfying  admiration  looking  into 
the  child's  face,  and  as  she  looked  down  through  the 
pathway  of  years  before  her,  thought  at  last  she  saw 
a  light  ahead,  saw  reason  to  be  thankful  after  all 
for  her  existence.  She  looked  forward  to  the  time 
when  Olive  might  grow  up  and  even  marry,  when 
she,  as  her  mother,  would  experience  great  joy  over 
her  success  and  achievements,  and  be  honored  by 
these  successes. 

Thus  they  sat  until  the  woman  said,  "  Come, 
Olive,  let  us  make  ready  for  the  drive." 

An  hour  later,  a  carriage  stopped  in  the  street, 
and  Olive  and  her  new-found  mother  came  down 
the  steps  and  were  seated  in  the  carriage  and  driven 
away.  Just  then  another  and  handsome  equipage 
drove  nearly  abreast  of  their  own  carriage, — the 
one  first  mentioned  starting  slowly,  and  the  driver 
of  the  second  one  apparently  holding  in  his  horses, 
stopping  them  to  a  slow  walk,  and  with  the  plain 
intention  of  falling  in  behind  the  other.  We  say 
'  plain  intention.'  So  it  seemed  to  Helen  Reed  as 
later  in  the  sanctity  of  her  own  chamber  she  re 
counted  this  day's  events. 

But  what  she  did  notice,  however,  was  a  woman 
of  a  type  unfamiliar  to  her,  a  young  woman  with  a 
plain  showing  of  rouge  on  her  face,  and  with  hair 
the  color  of  her  own,  yet  perhaps  lighter  and  more 
fluffy.  The  proximity  of  the  conveyances  per- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  59 

mitted  her  to  observe  also  the  keen,  deep-set  eyes  of 
the  other,  eyes  that  gleamed  with  shrewdness.  Her 
face  was  beautiful  in  spite  of  the  worldliness  shown 
so  unmistakably. 

She  noticed  this  woman  seemed  to  take  special 
interest  in  her  and  in  Olive.  She  thought  her  a 
trifle  ill-bred  to  stare  so  boldly  at  them.  "  Who  is 
this  woman  ?  "  she  thought.  Then  loving  the  child 
as  she  did,  she  forgave  her,  feeling  perhaps  she 
might  have  been  impressed  with  Olive's  face  or  may 
hap  have  lost  a  child  by  death.  And  with  those 
mingled  reasons,  showing  maternal  pride  and  an  un- 
resentful  spirit,  as  the  other  carriage  drew  behind, 
she  dismissed  all  thoughts  of  the  incident  from  her 
mind.  Yet  had  she  looked  back,  she  might  have 
beheld  this  carriage  following  at  a  little  distance. 

The  driver  threaded  his  way  through  the  fre 
quented  streets  of  the  city  and  finally  struck  in 
Fifth  Avenue,  from  which  he  led  the  way  uptown 
to  Central  Park.  Here  he  wound  in  and  out  the 
beautiful  drives,  and  among  the  trees  that  now  had 
taken  on  the  beautiful  Fall  tints,  Olive  at  times 
crumbling  cookies  she  had  brought,  and  throwing 
them  with  glee  to  the  sparrows  and  robins  that  fed 
on  her  offerings  with  a  vigor  born  of  an  empty 
stomach. 

A  squirrel  attracted  her  attention  as  it  leaped  on 
the  low  bough  of  a  tree  near  by. 


60  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Mother,  may  I  feed  the  squirrels  ?  "  she  said. 
Receiving  the  required  consent,  as  the  horses  were 
stopped,  the  driver  opened  the  door  of  the  carriage, 
she  stepped  down  and  cookie  in  hand  sought  the 
society  of  the  squirrel,  who  suspicious  of  her  inten 
tions,  climbed  higher  into  the  tree. 

"  Naughty  squirrel,"  she  scolded.  "  I  don't  want 
to  get  you,  only  give  you  a  dinner." 

The  squirrel,  ever  vigilant,  did  not  care  to  court 
the  acquaintance  of  the  little  girl,  and  hied  himself 
to  higher  branches.  Helen  stepped  from  the  car 
riage,  and  together  they  wandered  under  the  trees. 
Olive  caught  up  autumn  leaves  that  had  fallen, 
and  throwing  them  high  above  her  head,  'Stood  and 
let  the  shower  of  nature's  beautiful  emblems  of  the 
passing  season  fall  upon  her  head  and  shoulders. 

The  woman  too,  catching  the  spirit  of  revelry,  in 
appreciation  of  beautiful  nature,  sat  down  on  the 
bench,  and  calling  Olive  to  her  made  garlands  of 
leaves  which  Olive  put  about  her  neck.  Together 
they  made  a  picture  of  happy  contentment,  of  love 
and  felicity. 

As  the  sun  cast  his  vertical  rays  upon  the  Park, 
Helen  said  to  her  charge,  "  Come,  Olive,  we  will  go 
home  now.  It  is  growing  warmer  and  we  can  come 
here  some  other  day." 

"  Can  we  come  to-morrow  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  dear." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  61 

As  they  entered  the  carriage  and  drove  out,  Olive 
said,  "  Mamma,  do  not  the  birds  get  cold  at  night?  " 

"  Why,  no,  I  don't  think  so.  If  they  do,  they 
don't  complain." 

"  But  the  baby  birds,  do  they  not  get  cold;  does 
their  mother  keep  them  warm  ?  They  have  mothers, 
don't  they?" 

"  Yes,  dear,  of  course." 

"  I  am  so  glad  they  do ;  so  glad.  I  have  a 
mother  now  too,"  as  she  placed  her  hand  confidingly 
on  the  other's  arm,  and  rested  her  head  against  her. 

The  woman's  arm  stole  about  Olive  in  full  view 
of  the  many  people  who  frequented  the  walks. 
Down  Broadway  they  came  until  Olive  pleaded 
hunger.  She  had  fed  her  cookies,  which  they  had 
taken  with  them  for  this  emergency,  to  the  birds. 

"Hungry,  dear?  So  am  I.  I  will  stop  and  get 
some  bonbons  to  stay  our  appetites  until  dinner." 

"  Driver,"  she  called  out,  "  stop  at  the  con 
fectioner's  across  the  way  please." 

The  carriage  drew  up  in  front  of  the  confec 
tioner's  shop;  Helen  Reed  said,  "Olive,  you  stay 
here  and  mamma  w7ill  go  inside  and  get  the  bonbons. 
Don't  get  out,"  and  she  passed  inside. 

Hurriedly  came  the  carriage  just  behind;  it 
stopped  close  by  them,  and  the  woman  with  blonde 
hair  and  the  alert  eyes,  stepped  out  on  the  walk 
quickly,  passed  over  the  space  between  the  two 


62  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

vehicles,  and  from  the  foremost,  grasped  Olive  in 
her  arms  and  rapidly  returned  to  her  own  carriage. 

Olive  was  too  bewildered  and  frightened  to  cry 
out,  while  the  driver,  if  he  heard  any  commotion 
behind,  failed  to  look  back.  Instead,  as  if  he  ex 
pected  what  was  transpiring,  he  intently  gazed 
ahead. 

Straightway  the  strange  woman's  conveyance 
whirled  about  and  across  the  street  and  was  lost 
among  the  thousands  of  turnouts. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  63 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FOUR  days  after  Durand's  interview  with  Gra 
ham,  he  sat  in  the  solitude  of  his  surroundings, 
thinking,  thinking,  trying  to  scheme  a  way  of 
putting  together  this  circumstance  and  that  which 
he  had  heard  and  read,  circumstances  that  bordered 
on  the  idea  nearest  his  heart.  The  words  of  Helen 
Reed  at  the  time  of  Olive's  accident  reverberated 
through  his  brain,  and  furnished  food  for  thought 
and  schemes.  The  knowledge  he  possessed  of  cir 
cumstances  that  would  work  out  to  the  discredit  of 
Graham,  he  knew  would  seal  the  latter's  lips,  so  he 
had  naught  to  fear  from  that  quarter. 

He  did  not  need  money  himself.  Far  from  it. 
In  addition  to  the  means  which  he  had  possessed 
before,  he  from  time  to  time  drew  the  large  appro 
priations  his  friend  James  had  stated  in  the  will 
should  be  paid  him  monthly  for  his  services,  and 
James  realizing  the  estate  would  consume  the  most 
of  his  time  had  been  most  liberal.  So  he  did  not 
need  to  conjure  up  or  devise  ways  for  increasing  his 
capital.  There  was  no  excuse,  no  reasonable  sub 
terfuge  or  pretense  under  which  he  could  excuse 


64  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

himself,  or  by  which  he  might  try  to  appease  his 
conscience,  did  he  possess  one,  for  plotting  to  ac 
quire  possession  of  the  fortune  of  his  ward  and 
charge. 

On  the  contrary  there  was  condemnation  to  be 
found  in  his  every  move.  His  mind  was  corruptly 
fertile  or  the  remarks  of  Helen  Reed  would  not  have 
found  ground  for  propagation.  The  seed  thus  sown 
unconsciously  in  less  productive  soil  would  have 
proven  barren. 

Looking  forward  into  the  consequences,  the 
knowledge  of  his  information  about  Graham  yield 
ing  to  a  technical  illegality  that  involved  the  bank 
president  suggested  itself  to  him  as  a  cover  or 
shield.  He  might  do  this  thing  which  he  wanted 
to  do,  which  he  had  plotted  to  do,  under  Graham's 
very  nose,  and  as  much  as  the  latter  would  like  to 
silence  him  and  his  methods,  Durand  knew  from  the 
first  that  Graham  was  powerless  to  inflict  damage 
or  stop  him  in  his  nefarious  enterprises. 

Durand  was  a  man  who  considered  everybody  his 
enemy,  and  in  considering  Graham  in  this  light  he 
knew  he  had  his  enemy  at  a  disadvantage;  the  ser 
pent  that  would  strike  him  had  in  advance  drawn 
his  own  fangs. 

When  Durand  had  chosen  Graham's  institution 
as  the  custodian  of  the  funds  that  accrued  to  him, 
he  had  done  so  after  due  deliberation.  He  had 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  65 

wondered  if  by  going  back  in  this  way  he  would 
humiliate  himself,  and  if  he  put  his  pride  under 
his  feet  and  deposited  the  funds  there,  could  it  be 
of  use  to  him  in  the  future.  Intuitively  came  to 
him  the  thought  he  could  use  Graham  to  his  ad 
vantage  if  he  wanted  to.  Then  Durand  formulated 
a  new  proverb,  a  proverb  that  was  for  his  own  use 
at  least,  and  others  may  profit  by  it.  It  ran  thus : 
"  He  who  buries  not  his  dislikes  and  prejudices, 
wins  not  in  endeavor  or  battle;  but  he  who  would 
use  all  his  fellow  men  to  build  upon,  temporarily 
forgiving  his  enemies  that  he  may  use  them  to  his 
own  advantage,  does  well." 

Now  as  he  reflected  he  thought  the  proverb  was 
especially  good,  and  considered  that  if  he  were  to 
possess  the  wealth  of  little  Olive,  he  had  done  well 
that  he  had  gone  to  Graham  with  his  funds  in  trust. 
The  greed  of  this  man  was  untamed  and  uncon- 
quered.  The  desire  for  wealth  led  him  on  in  his  de- 
visings  of  ways  and  means  to  work  out  his  desired 
wish.  As  he  plotted  he  gave  no  thought  of  the  little 
one  who  would  suffer,  whose  whole  life  would  be 
changed,  nor  of  the  woman  who  presided  over 
Olive's  destiny,  and  if  he  did,  his  interest  in  them 
was  devoid  of  pity.  Like  unto  the  crouching  of  a 
tiger  that  waits  in  secret  ambush  for  his  prey  to 
approach,  so  Durand  as  pitiless  waited  for  the 
fruition  of  his  unscrupulous  schemings. 
5 


66  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

At  the  cradle  of  the  race,  twin  brother  with  hu 
manity,  there  was  born  a  monster,  multi-headed  and 
Janus-faced.  This  monster,  ever  bold  and  sagacious, 
grew  and  thrived,  destroying  man  and  defying 
God.  He  had  wrecked  the  lives  of  myriads  of  poor 
souls  of  the  past.  At  the  present  if  he  had  his 
avaricious  hold  on  one  stronger  than  on  another  of 
the  mortals  of  this  day,  it  was,  as  already  shown, 
upon  Durand.  The  name  of  this  monster  was 
Greed. 

While  one  day  Durand's  eyes  fell  upon  the  per 
sonal  columns  of  one  of  the  leading  metropolitan 
journals,  he  came  upon  the  notice  a  loving  wife  had 
inserted  as  she  called  out  in  her  loneliness  for  the 
recreant  husband  to  return,  promising  forgiveness 
and  love.  Unblushing  he  read  of  the  young  man 
who  had  been  noticed  by  a  young  lady  at  a  certain 
corner  on  a  certain  day,  and  the  appeal  was  made 
for  her  address. 

Before  he  had  finished  perusing  one-half  of  these 
notices,  this  monster  whispered  to  him  again  and 
Durand  at  once  listened  and  here  he  saw  an  outlet 
that  the  "  personal  "  column  should  furnish  for  him, 
namely,  some  one  to  carry  out  the  already  outlined 
scheme  that  his  imagination  had  wrought  and  which 
the  monster  had  prompted.  He  would  advertise  for 
a  woman  who  should  be  his  tool.  Money?  Yes. 
She  should  have  it  if  she  did  as  he  bid.  He  could 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  67 

afford  to  pay  well  if  she  should  make  large  demands 
for  her  services.  Only  once  he  stopped,  and  that 
was  when  he  realized  that  in  the  employment  of 
others  he  would  put  himself  in  their  hands ;  he 
would  make  himself  an  inviting  target  for  his  as 
sistant  to  blackmail,  but  this  hesitancy  was  only 
temporary  for  its  solution  rapidly  involved  the 
other.  The  fowler  must  find  the  bird  before  he 
snares  it;  "  the  blackmailer  will  have  to  find  me  be 
fore  I  will  be  blackmailed."  Here  he  laughed  a 
loud  ha !  ha ! — "  that  will  not  be  an  easy  task  per 
haps." 

Hurriedly  catching  up  his  pen,  he  wrote  upon 
some  note  paper  that  lay  before  him  the  follow 
ing: — "Wanted,  a  woman  to  take  charge  of  a 
young  child,  one  with  candor  and  bravery,  no  refer 
ences  required.  Inquire — 

"  That  will  about  get  what  I  want,"  said  Durand, 
talking  aloud.  "  I  did  not  mention  that  I  wanted  a 
home  for  a  child  or  a  tutor,  but  one  to  take  the 
child  in  charge.  By  mentioning  that  one  of  candor 
and  bravery  is  wanted,  I  may  be  beset  with  a  host 
of  women  who  cannot  see  beneath  the  surface, 
thinking  the  child  to  be  incorrigible,  may  imagine  I 
want  nerve  and  muscle,  but  to  a  woman  who  can 
read  between  the  lines  it  will  show  what  I  want, 
and  that  such  an  one  will  reply  I  have  no  doubt." 


68  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

So  saying,  he  sealed  his  letter,  addressed  it  and 
called  Perkins  to  take  it  out  and  post  it. 

The  paper  which  Durand  had  favored  with  his 
advertisement  did  not  receive  it  in  time  for  insertion 
on  the  day  following  its  posting,  so  it  was  not  until 
two  days  later  that  the  fruits  of  his  note  were  ap 
parent. 

As  Perkins  opened  the  door  in  response  to  the 
first  caller  there  entered  a  young  Irish  woman  of 
brawn  and  brass.  Without  waiting  to  be  questioned 
she  at  once  opened  on  Durand. 

"  If  it  is  a  brave  woman  ye  want,  sure  I  am  her. 
You  can  do  no  better  for  your  errant  brat.  Just 
look  at  me  arms;  don't  doubt  me.  I  could  throw 
you  right  easily." 

Durand  stepped  back.  Plainly  he  did  not  want 
this  woman.  He  was  looking  for  brains  and  not 
for  muscle.  Fearing  a  scene  if  he  expressed  him 
self  that  way,  he  quietly  asked  the  woman's  name 
and  address ;  told  her  she  might  hear  from  him  later, 
but  not  to  allow  any  opportunity  to  pass  should  she 
wish  another  place. 

Perkins  had  no  sooner  bowed  the  first  one  out 
than  a  second  one  put  in  an  appearance,  a  tawdry 
individual  who  looked  about,  and  approved  of  the 
apartment  evidently,  for  when  her  eyes  sought  Du 
rand  they  were  smiling.  She  cast  enticing  looks 
upon  him,  while  he  blandly  returned  her  gaze,  dis- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  69 

missing  her  as  soon  as  the  advertisement  was  men 
tioned.  Others  came,  elderly  women  of  good  ap 
pearance,  whose  plain  clothes  proved  them  in  need 
of  work,  and  reading  the  advertisement  believed 
it  suitable  and  remunerative  enough  to  relieve  their 
strained  finances.  Young  and  flippant  widows  came 
in  plenty.  Durand  scrutinized  each  carefully  and 
decided  that  none  as  yet  would  suit  his  purpose.  He 
was  about  convinced  that  this  method  of  securing 
what  he  wanted  would  fail  when  Perkins  ushered 
in  a  veiled  woman  whose  blonde  hair  shone  through 
the  veil  and  attracted  his  attention  and  whose  French 
accent,  as  she  returned  his  salutation,  made  him 
hope  that  at  last  he  had  succeeded. 

He  would  question  her  more  carefully  than  he 
had  the  others. 

"  I  saw  your  advertisement,"  she  said,  in  her 
dainty  accent.  "  What  do  you  desire?  " 

"  A  woman  of  brains  who  will  do  my  bidding." 

"  And  the  price?  "  she  asked. 

"  She  shall  name  it." 

'  You  are  generous,  but  the  service  you  require 
is  very  difficult?  " 

"  Not  very,  secrecy  is  the  main  factor." 

"  Mon  dieu,  I  can  be  secret." 

"  Yes,"  he  said  eagerly,  "  and  the  task  is  to  pro 
cure  and  hold  in  safe  keeping  and  secretly  at  that, 
a  girl  child." 


70  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"How  old?" 

"  About  five." 

"  And  for  how  long?" 

"  As  long  as  the  case  may  require.  Perhaps 
years.  Perhaps  some  other  disposition  will  be  made 
should  it  be  necessary  or  expedient." 

"  And  where  is  the  girl  ?  " 

"  In  this  city." 

"  How  can  she  be  secured  ?  " 

"  Only  in  one  way." 

"And  that?" 

"  Kidnapping."  Quietly  he  said  it  and  without 
a  pang  of  conscience. 

"  That  is  dangerous." 

"  But  you  name  your  own  terms ;  anything  reason 
able  I  will  pay." 

'*  You  want  me  to  secure  the  custody  of  this 
child  and  keep  her  as  long  as  you  desire.  Do  I 
understand  you  aright?" 

"  Exactly." 

"  Very  well  then,  I  can  arrange  it  for  you." 

"  The  price?  "  he  asked. 

The  price  she  named  nearly  staggered  him,  but 
he  did  not  falter  in  his  intention.  Her  compensa 
tion  was  large  for  even  so  dangerous  a  deed,  at 
tached  was  a  monthly  allowance  for  the  mainte 
nance  of  the  child. 

"  Agreed,"  he  said,  for  he  knew  the  job  to  be 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  71 

one  that  only  the  most  daring  and  mercenary  would 
undertake.  Then  the  two  cold-blooded  and  diaboli 
cal  plotters  continued. 

Said  the  woman,  "  How  can  it  be  arranged?  " 

"  Simply  enough ;  the  woman  in  charge  of  the 
little  girl  naturally  goes  driving  often.  You  can 
follow  and  if  they  alight  or  the  little  one  is  left 
alone  there  is  sure  to  be  some  time  you  can  easily 
take  the  girl  in  your  carriage.  The  rest  is  easy." 

"  I  will  do  it  for  you,"  she  said. 

'  Your  name  please?  " 

She  handed  him  a  card  from  which  he  read 
aloud,  "  Mile.  Sarah  Le  Blanc,  No.  --  West  st." 

"And  your  name?" 

He  handed  her  his  card. 

Then  he  gave  her  a  description  of  Olive,  her  ad 
dress,  told  her  he  would  let  her  know  each  day  when 
they  were  to  drive;  and  thereafter  for  several  days 
the  carriage  of  Helen  Reed  and  Olive  was  followed 
unknown  to  them.  For  several  days  two  human 
sharks  were  upon  the  trail.  At  last  came  a  day 
when  one  shark  found  her  victim,  as  already  de 
scribed. 


72  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

AGAIN  Durand  sat  in  the  seclusion  of  his  own 
apartments.  To  say  that  he  was  slightly  nervous, 
agitated  or  preoccupied  seems  entirely  incongru 
ous  to  his  nature  as  depicted,  and  yet  such  was  the 
case. 

He  had  spent  the  afternoon  at  home,  trying  to 
amuse  himself  with  papers  or  a  book  and  his  pipe, 
but  all  seemed  inadequate  to  fill  in  the  time,  to 
hold  his  attention  or  engross  his  thoughts.  No  man, 
even  playing  for  larger  stakes,  ever  more  carefully 
considered  the  delicateness  of  his  position  or  with 
more  earnestness  longed  for  and  yet  dreaded  the 
play  of  the  last  card.  He  realized  that  much  de 
pended  upon  the  success  of  Mile.  Sarah  La  Blanc's 
efforts  to  kidnap  the  innocent  Olive. 

Yet  Durand  was  no  more  agitated  than  he  had 
been  on  one  or  two  afternoons  preceding  this  one 
when  the  carriage  of  Mile.  Sarah  had  followed  that 
of  Helen  and  Olive,  but  without  success.  However, 
Durand  had  a  sure  conviction  that  his  plans  must 
succeed;  that  at  some  time  Helen  Reed  would  leave 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  73 

the  child,  temporarily  neglect  her  perhaps,  and  then 
would  come  the  opportunity  which  his  feminine 
hireling  sought.  He  felt  sure  this  would  come  on 
this  particular  day,  as  he  had  told  himself  on  the 
days  previous,  the  safe  and  the  sure  capture  of  the 
child  whose  innocently  possessed  fortune  the  giant 
Greed  had  told  him  to  take.  Once  he  started  as  a 
tradesman  brought  goods  which  Perkins  had  or 
dered,  the  footfalls  making  him  believe  that  the 
coveted  news  had  at  last  come. 

After  a  time  these  sure  convictions  left  him  as 
the  woman  returned  not  with  the  child,  and  he  al 
most  believed  that  this  day  had  been  as  fruitless 
as  the  others,  when  again  he  heard  Perkins  invit 
ing  some  one  to  enter. 

In  his  glee  he  came  forth  from  the  back  parlor 
to  meet  the  visitor  and  ascertain  the  secret  of  the 
message.  His  little  reception  hall  was  dimly  lighted 
and  as  some  one  entered  he  beheld  a  woman  of 
Mile.  Sarah's  proportions  and  height,  and  supposed 
it  to  be  her.  Without  waiting  for  her  to  speak,  he 
rushed  forward,  grasped  her  hand,  and  hastily  said, 

"  What  news,  what  of  our  enterprise  ?  " 

A  gleam  of  light  broke  over  the  face  of  the  wo 
man  before  him  that  in  the  uncertain  light  he  could 
not  see. 

"  What  enterprise  do  you  refer  to  ?  "  said  the 
voice  of  Helen  Reed. 


74  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

He  was  not  prepared  for  this  surprise,  and  for 
once  was  dumfounded. 

"  Enterprise,  enterprise,"  he  stammered.  "  Why 
petite  Olive  James  to  be  sure." 

"  Olive  James  was  stolen  from  my  carriage  less 
than  an  hour  ago." 

"  Stolen,  stolen,"  repeated  the  man.  "  Do  you 
speak  the  truth?" 

The  woman  had  at  first  been  suspicious  of  his 
inquiry  when  he  referred  to  '  our  enterprise.'  She 
was  yet  suspicious.  It  was  plain  to  her  he  did  not 
know  her  when  she  first  entered,  and  also  plain  that 
from  his  quick  response  to  her  entrance  he  ex 
pected  a  caller.  But  he  might  have  many  callers, 
and  while  she  was  yet  suspicious,  she  admitted  the 
ring  of  surprise  in  his  voice,  even  if  feigned,  was  of 
the  right  sort,  and  she  might  be  mistaken. 

The  woman  in  her  came  to  the  front.  "  Man," 
she  said  excitedly,  "  do  something.  Can't  you  un 
derstand  Olive  has  been  kidnapped  ?  Move !  Move, 
at  once!  The  police  will  help  you,"  and  the  tears 
streamed  down  her  face.  "  Don't  delay.  My  car 
riage  is  waiting.  Come  quickly."  She  clutched 
his  arm.  "  Come,"  she  said. 

"  Wait,  tell  me  how  it  happened." 

Impatiently  she  narrated  the  facts. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  as  she  finished. 

But  he  would  play  for  time.     He  would  give 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  75 

Mile.    Sarah  opportunity  to  make  good  her  escape. 

"  What  do  you  propose?  "  he  inquired. 

"The  police,  detectives,  anything;  don't  delay; 
come  at  once;  we  can  make  the  plans  when  we  are 
started." 

Leisurely  he  procured  his  top-coat  and  hat  and 
followed  her  out  into  the  carriage. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  he  asked. 

She  leaned  back.  "  He  is  little  interested,"  was 
her  mental  calculation.  Her  answer  she  called  out 
to  the  driver,  "  To  the  next  elevated  station." 

"Why  there?"  he  asked. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  city  hall.  We  will  personally 
appeal  to  the  mayor  and  the  chief  of  police." 

"  We,"  he  thought,  and  wanted  to  smile. 

He  did  not  protest  against  going  where  Helen 
had  directed.  It  would  not  do.  She  naturally  would 
come  to  him  first  in  an  emergency  of  this  kind,  and 
he  must  show  interest  or  he  might  be  suspected. 
He  knew  that  Helen  mistrusted  him  generally,  and 
he  reasoned  that  now  by  doing  her  bidding  he  might 
throw  off  this  suspicion;  besides  it  might  be  ex 
pected  of  him  to  raise  a  hue  and  cry  over  the  dis 
appearance  of  his  ward.  By  the  time  they  would  be 
down  town  and  to  the  city  hall,  considerable  time 
would  elapse  giving  the  kidnapper  opportunity  to 
cover  her  tracks.  So  he  did  not  protest.  The 
interval  before  their  arrival  at  the  city  hall  was 


76  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

spent  by  Durand  in  considering  what  was  best  to  do 
in  order  to  escape  the  suspicion  of  the  authorities, 
and  by  Helen  in  rapidly  and  excitedly  talking  over 
the  affair,  repeating  to  him  many  times  the  cir 
cumstances,  sobbing  behind  her  handkerchief  until 
the  passengers  on  the  elevated  train  looked  at  her 
with  surprise  and  interest. 

Arriving  at  the  city  hall  they  looked  up,  each  in 
turn,  the  chief  of  police  and  mayor.  Both  of  these 
dignitaries  asked  many  questions.  The  chief  in 
quired  all  about  the  circumstances;  seemed  much 
interested  and  took  down  the  data  in  a  large  book 
on  his  desk.  Helen  gave  him  the  facts,  while  Du 
rand  remained  silent.  As  he  wrote  down  the  name 
of  the  child  and  the  names  of  the  other  two  he 
noticed  the  disparity. 

"  Why,"  he  said,  "  this  is  not  your  child,"  speak 
ing  to  the  two. 

"  No,"  returned  Durand,  speaking  for  the  first 
time,  "she  is  my  ward;  this  lady  was  her  tutor 
and  governess." 

"  I  wras  a  mother  to  her,"  said  the  woman. 
Reaching  over  the  desk,  she  took  the  bulky  hand  of 
the  chief.  "  Find  her,  find  her ;  I  pray  you  find 
her." 

"  Everything  shall  be  done,  miss,"  he  assured 
her.  "  The  captains  and  the  patrolmen  shall  be 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  77 

notified  at  once.  One  more  word,  have  you  any 
suspicions?  " 

"  No,"  said  Helen,  hesitating  as  she  glanced  at 
Durand. 

Durand  shook  his  head. 

"You  say  you  were  driving;  did  you  see  any 
one  follow  you?  " 

"  No,  er, — yes,  we  did  too,"  said  Helen,  for 
the  first  time  recalling  the  carriage  with  the  blonde 
woman  which  drew  abreast  of  them  as  they  started. 

"  Tell  us  about  it,"  said  the  chief. 

"  There  is  little  to  tell.  A  blonde  woman  in  a 
carriage  drew  abreast  of  us  as  we  were  leaving  our 
home.  The  woman  I  noticed  leaned  forward  and 
scrutinized  Olive  closely.  The  carriage  drew  back 
and  I  saw  it  no  more." 

"  Did  you  not  look  for  it  again?  " 

"  No,  not  being  suspicious,  believing  the  woman 
to  be  of  a  rude  sort  and  merely  inquisitive,  I  did  not 
pay  any  further  attention  to  her." 

Durand  looked  agitated.  He  liked  not  the  clue 
the  chief  was  following  out.  When  the  blonde 
woman  was  mentioned,  he  had  winced  perceptibly. 
This  the  chief  had  noticed.  Then  he  drew  himself 
together  and  stood  the  balance  of  the  ordeal  un 
flinchingly. 

After  they  withdrew,  the  chief  turned  and  said 


78  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

to  a  sergeant,  who  had  stood  by  and  heard  all  that 
was  said : 

"That  man  was  not  interested  much,  was  he? 
I  will  gamble  he  either  knows  the  whereabouts  of 
the  child;  or  if  some  one  he  does  not  know  has  ab 
ducted  her  he  hopes  she  will  not  return.  We  will 
watch  him.  Sergeant,  here  is  his  address.  Detail 
men  to  cover  his  home  for  a  few  days  and  watch 
his  movements  and  his  visitors." 

Meanwhile  Durand  and  Helen  Reed  were  on 
their  way  home.  Durand  saw  Helen  Reed  to  her 
own  door.  But  he  did  not  see  the  agitated  woman 
fling  herself  a  moment  later  on  the  sofa  and  sob: 
"Olive,  Oh,  Olive!  Daughter  of  him  I  loved." 
Nor  did  he  witness  the  dropping  on  the  knees  as 
her  tear-stained  face  was  lifted  heavenward  and  her 
petition  ascended  for  the  safety  of  the  child. 

His  home-coming  was  vastly  different.  As  he 
entered  his  rooms,  a  woman  arose  to  greet  him. 
It  was  Mile.  Sarah. 

He  took  her  hand  in  glee,  smiling  his  old  sinister 
smile,  as  he  said:  "  I  know  all;  you  were  success 
ful." 

"Who  told  you?" 

"  I  have  just  quitted  the  office  of  the  chief  of 
police  with  the  idea  of  assisting  in  the  search."  He 
smiled  more  blandly  than  usual. 

"  How  did  you  know  it?" 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  79 

"  She,  the  other  woman,  came  to  me  at  once. 
I  am  sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  yet  I  was 
occupied  as  you  know.  Tell  me  about  it." 

Then  she  detailed  the  performance  to  him,  not 
omitting  the  fact  that  the  child  was  lovable  and  she 
was  sure  the  other  woman  loved  her. 

"  How  does  the  other  woman  take  it  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Very  badly,  but  then  in  time  she  will  get  over 
her  sentimentality.  She  had  a  good  berth;  the  pay 
was  large,  and  she  disliked  losing  it  I  presume,  but 
still  she  has  plenty  of  means  besides,  the  revenue 
from  which  will  keep  her.  Ah,  she  will  forget  Olive 
no  doubt.  And  the  girl,"  he  interrogated,  "  how- 
does  she  take  it?  " 

"  Oh,  badly.  I  almost  repented  of  our  act  when 
I  saw  her  great  distress.  Were  it  not  for  my  re 
ward  I  am  afraid  I  should  take  her  back." 

His  eyes  flashed.  "  Take  her  back,  woman !  You 
secrete  her  and  also  keep  your  whereabouts  a 
secret.  The  police  will  follow  me.  I  think  the  chief , 
half  suspected  me  to-day.  We  must  both  be  care 
ful.  I  shall  hardly  venture  out  for  several  days; 
and  you  keep  indoors,  once  you  are  at  home." 

When  Mile.  Le  Blanc  passed  out  to  her  carriage 
later  she  was  almost  jostled  off  her  feet  by  two 
patrolmen  who  did  this  in  order  to  hear  her  speak, 
to  get  a  look  at  her,  for  they  were  the  detailed  men 


8o  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  chief  had  sent;  but  aside  from  the  blonde  hair 
they  saw  or  learned  nothing  to  their  advantage. 

However,  they  did  not  fail  to  report  the  occur 
rence  to  the  chief,  who  inquired  why  they  had  not 
followed  her.  Yet  they  had  been  told  to  watch  the 
house  only,  so  he  could  not  complain.  They  were 
told  that  the  next  time  they  were  to  follow  and  if 
possible  locate  the  blonde  woman. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  81 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WE  have  shown  how  Durand,  the  usually  dis 
creet  man,  had  bartered  with  a  woman  of  whom 
he  knew  no  more  than  she  had  chosen  to  disclose 
of  herself,  which  was  not  very  much.  Yet  he  had 
no  fear  of  eventual  results,  for  to  him  "  sufficient 
unto  the  clay  is  the  evil  thereof."  He  borrowed  no 
trouble  on  the  score  of  harm  or  blackmail  from 
Mile.  Le  Blanc.  He  had  already  formulated  plans 
that  when  carried  into  effect  would  place  him  be 
yond  harm's  reach,  beyond  the  influence  of  any  who 
would  work  vindication.  Even  though  he  had  to 
desert  the  child,  leaving  her  in  the  care  of  Mile. 
Le  Blanc,  he  meant  to  escape  after  securing  all  the 
money.  Yet  he  hoped  Olive  would  first  be  provided 
for,  and  that  concerned  him  most.  Not  that  he 
brooded  over  her  destiny  now  with  the  same  meas 
ure  of  anxiety  that  he  had  over  the  plans  for  her 
kidnapping.  He  saw  no  reason  for  it.  He  had  her 
secreted  and  now  would  secrete  the  wealth  also. 

Ere  he  finally  decided  as  to  the  disposition  of 
Olive  he  made  another  visit  to  Mr.  Graham.  The 
meeting  could  hardly  be  said  to  be  cordial.  After 
6 


82  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  hand-shake,  Dnrand  boldly  looked  Graham  in 
the  eye  and  said  :  "  Mr.  Graham,  my  ward  has  been 
kidnapped  and  her  whereabouts  are  unknown." 

Graham  turned  upon  him,  wrath  flaming  in  his 
face  and  unsteadying  his  hand,  and  asked, 
"When?' 

"  A  few  days  ago." 

"  Did  you  notify  the  police?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Has  a  reward  been  offered  ?  "  sneeringly  asked 
Graham. 

Durand  flushed.  'Twas  plain  the  other  suspected 
him,  and  he  would  show  him  he  did  not  care  for 
that. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  and  none  wrill  be  offered.  Con 
tent  yourself  with  that." 

"  You  are  a  devil  and  a  scoundrel,  sir,  a  robber 
and  persecutor  of  children,  a  thief." 

"  Then  we  are  in  the  same  class.  You  are  an 
unconvicted  and  unheralded  embezzler.  I  have  the 
figures  and  I  can  have  your  affair  investigated  at 
any  time  I  lay  my  facts  before  the  authorities.  I 
was  not  in  your  employ  those  years  for  naught.  I 
will  make  public  your  methods." 

"  And  for  the  kidnapping  I  will  have  you  ar 
rested  before  nightfall." 

"  And  I  will  make  my  complaint  against  you  as 
I  leave  this  place.  Come  now,  let  us  make  a  com- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  83 

pact.  I  keep  silence  and  you  keep  silence.  Tit  for 
tat.  Agreed?" 

"  No,  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  nefari 
ous  affair.  I,  an  honest  man,  asked  to  become  an 
accessory  through  silence  to  such  a  piece  of  dam 
nable  business  as  that !  You  hound,  you  ask  me  to 
sit  by  and  see  you  steal  and  secrete  this  child  that 
you  may  acquire  her  fortune.  Her  father  was  a 
fool  in  choosing  you  as  executor;  or  perhaps  you 
put  screws  on  him  as  you  threaten  to  on  me,  but 
you  can't  use  me  in  this  way.  I  shall  denounce  you 
at  once." 

'  That  money  shall  be  mine  and  soon,"  answered 
the  other  unabashed  by  what  had  been  threatened. 

A  curious  smile  lit  up  the  other's  face.  "  Never, 
sir,"  he  said,  "  your  bondsmen  would  follow  you  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth.  Surety  companies  are  not 
lenient  with  criminals." 

"  Calmly,"  said  Durand.  "  I  gave  no  bond  for 
my  proper  administration  of  this  estate.  The  will 
said  I  was  exempt  from  that." 

"I  just  said  the  girl's  father  was  a  fool;  he  was 
a  damned  fool  at  that,"  said  the  astute  bank  presi 
dent,  indulging  in  profanity  that  he  rarely  allowed 
himself.  "  He  did  not  know  you  or  he  was  under 
pressure." 

"  Come  now,"  said  Durand.  "  Agree  to  my  pro 
position." 


84  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Never,"  said  the  other ;  "  I  shall  denounce  you 
at  once  and  shoulder  the  consequences." 

Durand  said  nothing  in  reply.  Instead  he  looked 
through  the  glass  door  by  which  he  had  entered 
and  saw  the  president's  son  in  the  corridor  outside 
the  booth-like  room  of  the  president  in  which  they 
were  seated.  The  sight  of  the  young  man  gave  him 
an  inspiration.  Turning  again  to  the  father,  he 
slowly  said : 

"  Men  build  up  futures  and  reputations  which 
they  hope  will  descend  upon  their  posterity.  As  a 
proud  father  you  expect  the  mantle  of  your  social 
position,  together  with  your  fortune  and  reputa 
tion  to  descend  upon  your  son.  You  look  forward 
to  a  time  when  he  shall  build  upon  all  you  bequeath 
him.  It  is  your  consolation,  your  hope."  Thus 
spoke  Durand,  who  knew  how  to  play  upon  human 
weaknesses,  and  pride.  "  But  should  your  reputa 
tion  be  sullied  and  spotted  this  hope  will  be  in  vain. 
You  say  you  will  denounce  me  and  shoulder  the  con 
sequences,  but  you  alone  cannot  shoulder  all.  In 
this  stigma  your  son  will  suffer;  with  you  he  falls; 
with  your  pride,  his  pride  is  sacrificed.  When  you 
are  forced  out  of  this  bank,  he  will  be  forced  out  in 
the  world,  a  son  of  a  criminal  father." 

The  other's  face  grew  first  grave  then  pale. 

Durand  continued.  "And  for  what?  That  an 
infant  whom  you  never  saw  may  be  rich.  Her  in- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  85 

terests  are  weighed  against  the  interests  of  two, — 
you  and  your  son.  Who  wins?" 

"  Right  should  win,"  feebly  said  Graham.  "  But 
my  son,  ah,  Harold,"  he  said,  "  that  I  am  thus 
forced. — Forced  to  countenance  a  damnable  wrong 
by  reason  of  a  technical  illegality  on  the  part  of 
my  directors,  the  very  men  who  made  me.  Yet  I 
submit. — I  must !  " 

"  You  must  and  will  or  I  shall  divulge  what  I 
know !  Agreed  ?  " 

The  other's  head  hung  in  silence.  The  appeal  in 
behalf  of  his  boy,  that  the  boy  might  not  suffer  for 
his  father's  sins,  sins  that  seemed  slight  at  first, 
sins  that  he  knew  many  banks  were  guilty  of,  was 
effective.  He  well  knew  that  his  bank  had  been 
temporarily  insolvent,  and  this  knowledge,  if  cast 
abroad  would  endanger  the  bank's  interest,  cause 
him  to  resign,  and  perhaps  be  prosecuted.  He  had 
looked  at  the  time  upon  this  offense  as  trivial.  He 
had  always  stuck  closely  to  this  principle  of  honesty, 
not  thinking  his  slight  offense  dishonest.  Now  he 
must  sacrifice  his  high  principles  of  honesty  or  his 
son.  To  espouse  honesty  meant  the  restitution  of 
the  rights  of  the  kidnapped  child.  To  keep  silence 
meant  that  his  son  would  suffer.  Which  should  he 
do. 

The  son  approached  the  door  as  though  he  would 
enter.  The  bank  president  looked  upon  his  descend- 


86  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

ant,  a  quaver  was  in  his  voice  as  he  turned  upon 
Durand  and  said,  "  I  will  keep  your  secret." 

"  I  will  keep  yours,"  said  Durand,  as  he  ex 
tended  his  hand.  The  bank  president  pretended  not 
to  see  it. 

The  son  entered.  "  Father,  a  lady  is  waiting 
outside  to  see  you.  She  has  been  waiting  for  some 
time." 

"  I  will  see  her  at  once,"  he  said,  as  he  arose. 

Instead  of  inviting  the  obnoxious  Durand  to  with 
draw,  as  if  to  get  away  from  the  polluted  presence 
of  the  man  who  had  so  mercilessly  threatened  and 
coerced  him,  he  went  outside. 

"  How  are  the  mighty  fallen,"  said  Durand  to 
himself  as  soon  as  Graham  was  outside. 

He  had  an  inborn  curiosity  from  which  few  are 
exempt.  At  this  time  he  felt  it  obligatory  to  see 
that  Graham  immediately  fell  under  no  influences 
adverse  to  his  own  interests,  so  he  craned  his  neck 
and  followed  the  former's  moves.  He  beheld  him 
with  his  back  toward  his  own  secret  room.  Stand 
ing  in  front  of  him,  so  as  to  be  hidden  from  Du 
rand' s  view,  was  a  lady.  Her  partially  concealed 
figure  struck  him  as  familiar,  but  he  did  not  surmise 
who  she  was,  until,  through  the  crack  in  the  door 
that  Graham  had  inadvertently  left  ajar,  he  heard 
her  voice.  It  was  Helen  Reed.  Then  she  knew 
Graham,  did  she?  Why  this  interview?  The  an- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  87 

swer  she  gave  herself,  as  she  addressed  Mr.  Gra 
ham. 

"  Mr.  Graham,"  she  said,  "  my  charge  has  disap 
peared,  been  stolen,  kidnapped." 

"You  don't  tell  me?" 

"  Yes,  it  is  true.  You  warned  me,  Mr.  Graham, 
that  I  should  keep  close  watch  on  her  some  time 
ago,  but  I  scarcely  thought  it  necessary  then.  Now 
I  would  to  God  I  had  heeded  you." 

So  Graham  had  warned  the  woman  before.  Well, 
what  would  he  say  now  after  his  fangs  were  drawn  ? 

"  I  am  sorry  it  is  so  serious,  madam,"  slowly 
replied  Graham.  "  Has  everything  been  done  that 
can  be  for  her  recovery  ?  " 

"  No,  no  systematic  search  conducted  privately 
has  been  made.  I  hardly  think  any  will  be  made 
unless  you  can  help  me.  Mr.  Graham,  I  suspect 
that  her  guardian  is  responsible  for  Olive's  disap 
pearance.  True  he  went  with  me  to  the  chief  of 
police  and  mayor's  office, — a  semblance  of  interest 
in  itself,  yet  he  knew  that  visit  to  be  futile.  Had 
he  not,  he  would  not  have  gone." 

Durand  smiled  from  his  cover  and  whispered 
to  himself,  "  Quite  true,  my  lady." 

So  far  Graham  had  shown  himself  to  be  the  sort 
of  man  Durand  wanted.  But  Durand  was  afraid 
he  might  yet  break  down. 

Helen  Reed  continued :     "  Mr.  Graham,  you  re- 


88  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

member  I  left  a  package  of  securities  here  in  the 
name  of  Olive  James." 

Durand  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  Yes." 

"  They  are  here  yet  of  course." 

What  a  fool,  Durand  thought,  in  that  he  had 
ever  mentioned  this  money  to  Helen  Reed.  He 
would  not  have  done  so,  only  then  he  wanted  some 
one  to  keep  the  child,  and  he  had  reluctantly  given 
her  this  money. 

"  So  now  she  has  given  it  to  Olive,  has  she?  " 

Chagrin  showed  in  his  face,  hatred  for  her  and 
disgust  with  himself. 

"  Mr.  Graham,"  again  spoke  Helen  Reed,  "  can 
not  I  now  turn  some  of  these  securities  into  money 
that  I  may  make  a  thorough  search  throughout  the 
land,  offering  rewards  and  employing  private  de 
tectives  rather  than  sitting  idle,  as  her  guardian, 
who  should  be  active  at  this  time,  is  doing?  " 

"  No,"  said  Graham,  "  I  am  sorry,  but  you  have 
deposited  these  securities  in  the  name  of  Olive 
James.  None  but  she  or  her  guardian  can  touch 
or  take  them." 

"  Fool  that  I  was,"  said  Helen  Reed.  "  But  I 
did  not  want  to  use  his  money."  This  aloud,  but  as 
though  she  were  alone. 

Durand  whispered  to  himself,  "  I  was  the  fool." 

Helen  Reed  collected  herself  again   for  a  final 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  89 

effort.  "  Mr.  Graham,  you  will  at  least  advance 
money  for  a  large  reward  or  search, — a  reward  as 
an  incentive  to  the  police  that  their  work  may  be 
heightened  in  the  quest.  If  you  will  advance  this 
you  run  no  chances,  for  should  the  reward  be  un 
claimed  you  retain  it,  and  if  it  is  claimed  and  Olive 
returned  it  shall  be  given  to  you  from  her  estate." 

"  Who  will  pay  me  ?  "  asked  Graham. 

"  Mr.  Durand,"  returned  the  woman. 

"Durand?"  asked  Graham.  "Durand?  You 
say  you  think  he  had  an  interest  in  the  little  one's 
disappearance,  and  why  then  would  he  refund  the 
money  to  me  in  lieu  of  a  reward  that  he  does  not 
or  will  not  offer  himself?" 

Durand  wondered  if  Graham  were  only  playing 
with  her. 

Unmindful  of  his  whip  over  him  Graham  went 
on.  "  What  will  compel  him,  Miss  Reed,  to  dis 
gorge  to  me,  even  if  the  child  is  recovered? 

Promptly  she  answered,  "  The  law,  the  law." 

Graham  winced.  He  had  always  been  an  up 
holder  and  believer  in  the  law,  but  now  that  word 
to  him  had  a  grating  sound.  He  knew  and  realized 
it  was  the  club  of  the  law  Durand  held  over  him 
that  compelled  him  to  refuse  what  he  gladly  would 
have  done  under  other  circumstances.  He  an 
swered,  "  Madam,  I  cannot  do  what  you  ask." 

She  fell  on  her  knees  at  his  feet.     "  In  the  name 


90  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

of  God,  do  this  one  kind  act;  you  are  rich  and 
could  afford,  would  afford  much  more,  were  she 
your  own  child." 

His  own  child.    The  words  touched  him. 

She  pleaded.  "  I  beg  of  you  that  you  lend  your 
assistance;  will  you  not?  I  know  I  am  asking  much 
of  you,  a  stranger  almost,  but  my  love,  as  great  as 
a  mother's  love,  prompts  me.  Have  you  not  a 
father's  love  in  your  heart  ?  Will  you  not  help  me  ?  " 

Durand  shifted  uneasily.  Few  men  can  stand 
such  pleading  and  he  felt  Graham  would  fall.  He 
snatched  up  a  piece  of  paper,  hastily  writing  on  it 
in  large  letters  and  holding  the  same  against  the 
glass  of  the  door,  softly  tapped  on  the  pane.  He 
would  attract  Graham's  attention  before  he  replied, 
for  he  felt  that  Graham  was  growing  weaker.  Gra 
ham  turned  and  read  from  the  paper  on  the  glass: 
"  If  you  fail  me,  remember,  I  expose  yon." 

At  this  time  Graham  was  almost  willing  to  con 
sent  to  sacrifice  himself  to  the  pleadings  of  the  wo 
man  and  to  the  consequences  Durand's  exposure 
might  entail,  and  by  it  abide.  He  had  this  in  mind 
when  he  had  just  refused  her.  He  had  not  replied 
to  her  the  last  time  she  had  pleaded.  Durand  had 
called  his  attention  to  the  note  when  he  was  about 
to  tell  the  woman  he  would  help  her.  Disdaining 
this  warning  from  Durand  he  turned  towards  Helen 
Reed  and  was  about  to  answer. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  91 

Durand  read  upon  his  face  what  the  answer 
would  be,  and  felt  it  meant  defeat  and  perhaps 
flight,  for  he  knew  his  charges  against  Graham  to  be 
much  less  serious  than  the  ones  that  would  accrue 
to  himself  in  retaliation.  He  had  played  upon  Gra 
ham's  sensibilities  to  a  greater  extent  than  he  knew. 
Just  now  he  concerned  himself  about  this.  Would 
he,  Durand,  win  against  this  woman  ? 

"  Woman,"  said  Graham,  as  he  cleared  his  throat 
and  wras  about  to  begin.  The  noise  of  the  opening 
of  the  door  aroused  him.  He  looked  toward  the 
door  of  ingress  from  the  corridor.  His  son  entered, 
picked  up  some  papers  from  among  others  on  a  desk 
near  by  and  passed  out.  Then  and  there  came  back 
to  him  the  words  of  Durand:  Would  he  sacrifice 
his  own  son  for  what  he  might  erroneously  think 
was  right.  He  shook  violently.  The  love  for  his 
son  asserted  itself  and  gained  the  supremacy.  He 
opened  his  mouth,  but  spoke  the  words  little  above 
a  whisper :  "  I  can  do  nothing  for  you." 

"  I  will  take  those  securities,"  said  Durand  as 
she  withdrew. 

"  Never,"  said  Graham  so  forcibly  that  the  other 
was  cowed. 

"  Do  you  mean  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  do,"  came  the  not  uncertain  answer. 


92  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  X. 

As  soon  as  Durand  reached  home,  he  sent  for 
Mile.  Sara  Le  Blanc.  Helen  Reed  was  thoroughly 
aroused  to  the  necessity  of  immediate  action  in 
the  recovery  of  Olive,  he  knew.  It  was  also  plain 
that  she  suspected  him.  He  had  no  desire  to  con 
test  his  actions  in  the  intricacies  of  legal  proceed 
ings.  He  saw  in  the  future  great  pleasures  and 
gain;  saw  that  with  the  wealth  that  he  should 
soon  have,  life  would  hold  more  possibilities  and 
pleasures  than  heretofore.  Fearing  then  the  law  as 
an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  Helen  Reed  against 
him,  he  decided  that  immediate  action  toward  cover 
ing  his  tracks  was  advisable.  He  knew  also  that 
the  police,  once  thoroughly  aroused  would  have  little 
trouble  in  connecting  the  theft  of  the  child  with 
himself, — the  only  one  who  could  profit  by  her  dis 
appearance.  With  Graham  silenced,  the  evolution 
of  the  case  against  him  would  be  slight,  but  in  time 
his  connection  with  Mile.  Le  Blanc  would  be  known 
and  the  object  of  this  connection  be  suspected. 
After  that  the  discovery  of  Olive  with  Mile.  Sara 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  93 

would  be  comparatively  easy.  Conviction  for  him 
self  would  follow  this  discovery, — hence  something 
must  be  done  at  once. 

Leaving  Durand  to  reflect  as  to  what  he  would 
do  when  Mile.  Sara  arrived,  let  us  look  into  the 
history  of  the  woman  who  for  filthy  lucre  had  done 
his  bidding  in  the  stealing  of  Olive,  with  whom  he 
had  connived  for  the  secretion  and  robbing  of  an 
innocent  child.  As  we  have  said,  Durand  knew 
but  little  of  Mile.  Sara  Le  Blanc.  She,  in  answer  to 
his  advertisement,  had  appeared  at  his  house  and 
had  carried  on  her  part  of  the  plot  to  the  entire 
satisfaction  and  approval  of  her  employer.  Outside 
of  the  matter  in  hand,  she  had  conversed  little, 
telling  nothing  about  herself.  Had  she  been  a 
murderess  even,  to  him  it  mattered  not.  She  might 
have  claimed  saintly  inclinations,  that  also  mattered 
little.  If  she  did  his  bidding  that  was  all  he  asked. 

The  truth  was,  Mile.  Sara  was  of  France.  Bred 
and  reared  in  Paris,  she  had  absorbed  its  reckless 
ness,  its  immorality,  its  disregard  of  God.  The 
time  of  her  younger  days  she  had  spent  alternating 
between  the  profession  of  an  artists'  model  and  liv 
ing  the  life  of  a  Bohemian  on  the  Riviera.  A  year 
before,  leaving  her  own  land,  she  had  joined  a 
ballet  that  was  an  accessory  to  a  simple  and  sug 
gestive  opera,  an  opera  that  was  so  depraved  that 
it  nearly  met  death  in  New  York  where  things  Par- 


94  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

isian  are  often  tolerated.  She  was  a  true  advent 
uress  as  her  alternating  life  showed.  Since  the 
disbanding-  of  her  troupe,  she  had  lived  as  the  "  one 
half  "  only  knows,  yet  she  did  not  show  poverty  or 
physical  suffering.  So  we  infer  that  she  was  by 
no  means  destitute.  She  had  joined  that  great 
rank  and  file  of  whom  it  is  said,  "  they  live  by  their 
wits."  This,  properly  interpreted,  means  by  crime. 
It  was  so  with  her.  Did  any  one  lack  evidence  in 
criminating,  those  who  knew  her  felt  she  could 
be  relied  on  to  furnish  the  same.  Was  evidence 
lacking  in  proceedings  of  the  law,  she  could  be  re 
lied  on  to  furnish  the  same.  The  hunted — those 
fleeing  from  justice — in  her  rooms  found  a  haven 
temporarily  where,  for  pay,  and  large  pay,  they 
could  enjoy  her  asylum, — a  respite  from  the  vigil 
ance  of  the  police.  Daily  she  perused  the  papers, 
read  the  personal  notices  as  we  have  shown,  and  in 
this  way  had  come  into  the  employ  of  Durand. 

Since  the  coming  of  Olive  to  live  with  her  in  her 
small  East  side  flat,  where  surrounded  by  vice  and 
crime  she  lived,  she  had  manifested  a  degree  of 
goodness,  in  that  she  had  been  kind  to  the  little  one, 
buying  her  delicacies  and  reading  to  her,  telling  her 
of  the  city  of  her  nationality,  and  in  fact  liking  the 
little  one,  not  alone  for  the  revenue  she  brought  but 
for  herself.  Seldom  is  a  woman  so  bad,  and  bad 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  95 

women  can  be  hellish,  but  that  she  still  keeps  the 
inborn  love  for  a  child  that  is  God-given. 

For  this  reason  the  child  had  been  well  taken  care 
of  and  was  not  entirely  unhappy.  She  understood 
that  a  change  in  her  habitation  had  taken  place, 
and  for  several  days  she  was  disconsolate  that  her 
new-found  mamma  in  the  person  of  Helen  Reed 
did  not  come  to  see  her.  Then  childlike  she  had 
accepted  the  situation,  forgetting  what  was  past, 
and  was  contented.  To  the  credit  of  Mile.  Sara, 
let  it  be  said  that  all  things  evil  had  been  kept  from 
her  sight.  No  criminals  were  then  harbored,  and 
did  she  have  visitors  and  a  bit  of  revelry  when  the 
wine  flowed  and  the  tongue  quickened,  these  things 
were  after  the  little  one  was  asleep. 

Durand  was  waiting,  as  we  have  said,  for  Sara. 
She  came. 

"  How  is  the  little  one?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,"  said  the  woman,  "  and  happy." 

"  Happy?"  he  asked,  as  if  happiness  were  incon 
gruous  with  her  present  position. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  happy." 

"Would  she  be  happy,  if  elsewhere?"  he  asked. 

"  Perhaps  yes,  perhaps  no.  Why  do  you  ask  ? 
Do  you  contemplate  any  change  in  her  habitation?  " 

"  I  do,"  he  said. 

"  Is  it  necessary?  " 


96  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  It  was  for  this  reason  I  sent  for  you,  that  we 
might  discuss  it." 

In  Durand's  fertile  mind  there  were  already  prop 
agated  schemes  for  this  thing  he  proposed  to  do, 
the  secreting  of  the  child  where  he  thought  she 
would  be  reared  all  unconscious  of  what  might  be 
passing  in  the  world,  and  where,  should  she  live  to 
a  discretionary  age,  she  would  be  practically  alone 
in  the  world,  with  no  influential  assistance  to  re 
gain  her  rights  and  benefits.  This  partially  com 
pleted  scheme  he  explained  pro  and  con,  asking 
for  advice  here,  detailing  something  new  there,  sug 
gesting  when  necessary  a  new  and  a  large  bribe  to 
the  woman  who  would  have  hesitated  at  no  crime 
had  the  competency  been  large  enough.  Finally 
the  plans  were  matured. 

"  When  is  this  to  be  done?  "  asked  Mile.  Sara. 

"At  once." 

"  It  will  require  a  day  or  so  to  get  ready ;  my 
disguise  must  be  impenetrable." 

"  All  right,"  he  said,  "  but  hasten." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  97 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  Holy  Convent  of  the  Apostles,  as  regards  its 

proximity  to  the  population  who  furnished  it  ma 
terial,  was  advantageously  located.  In  the  most  evil, 
and  poverty-ridden  districts,  it  held  aloft  its  small 
spire.  It  proclaimed  the  mission  of  the  church 
where  it  was  most  needed,  serving  as  a  beacon  light 
in  the  midst  of  moral  decay.  Thousands  of  people 
passed  beneath  its  shadow.  The  poor  and  the  super 
stitious  looked  upon  it  in  awe.  The  believers  in 
the  faith  by  which  it  was  erected  felt  a  new  light 
break  over  their  souls  when  near  it.  The  wicked, 
the  truly  wicked,  in  passing  took  the  other  side  of 
the  street.  Small  and  unimposing,  few  outside  its 
precincts,  save  those  of  the  Catholic  religion,  knew 
how  it  existed,  knew  of  the  sacrificing,  praying 
sisters  in  whose  hands  it  was  placed. 

Its  entire  aspect  was  uninviting  and  mean.  Low 
stone  walls  enclosed  the  structure.  Small  windows 
were  cut  through  the  plainness  of  the  walls,  where 
they  from  within,  who  had  renounced  the  world, 
could  obtain  a  little  light,  a  little  of  God's  free  air 

7 


98  THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

to  cheer  them  on  in  their  way  through  a  life  devoted 
to  the  care  and  shortcomings  of  others.  An  ivy 
vine  nearly  covered  the  front  of  that  part  of  the 
house  exposed  to  the  passer-by.  A  small  garden  in 
side  the  low  brick  wall  was,  in  the  summer  time, 
well  kept  and  well  filled  with  its  own  beautiful 
products. 

The  passer-by  had  only  a  short  view  of  the  in 
terior  of  the  brick  wall,  and  this  through  a  massive 
iron  paled  gate.  From  this  gate  led  a  flag-walk  back 
some  dozen  paces  where  it  entered  a  low,  heavy 
door.  We  will  later  view  something  of  the  inside 
of  this  convent,  so  for  the  present  we  will  pass  over 
its  interior  details. 

Within  these  four  walls  were  cared  for  the  small 
unfortunates  of  the  world,  the  abandoned,  the  in 
digent  and  the  illegitimate.  This  place,  or  rather 
this  type  of  place  is  not  new.  Situated  throughout 
the  world,  they  are  a  power  for  good,  a  harbor 
for  the  infant  needy.  Ten  blocks  from  this  place 
one  emerged  into  a  totally  different  atmosphere 
socially, — into  the  moral  sunlight. 

The  pedestrian  near  this  convent  at  the  lonely 
hour  of  midnight  might  well  feel  timid.  Two 
blocks  away  he  could  walk  alone  at  this  hour  of  the 
night  with  impunity. 

A  closely  covered  carriage  in  the  former  locality 
at  night  would  excite  little  interest  or  suspicion, 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  99 

however.  So  none  took  particular  notice  of  a 
closely  hooded  conveyance  that,  after  coming  from 
an  uptown  district,  spent  a  little  time  in  driving 
about  the  particular  vicinity  of  the  convent,  the 
horses  governed  by  the  driver  who  in  turn  might  be 
obeying  the  commands  given  from  inside. 

They  seemed  in  no  hurry  as  they  wended  their 
way  through  these  particular  streets.  Not  that  the 
occupants  lacked  courage  to  carry  out  their  nefar 
ious  plot.  On  the  contrary  they  felt  no  fear  that 
their  plans  might  miscarry.  In  cold  blood  these 
plans  had  been  laid.  The  coolness  of  the  plotters 
alone  was  a  safeguard.  Besides  they  were  un 
likely  to  be  detected  by  the  police,  and  if  this  should 
take  place  they  relied  on  their  wits  to  safeguard 
them. 

Inside  this  carriage  were  three  persons, — first, 
a  man;  second,  a  woman;  and  third,  a  child.  The 
man  would  easily  be  recognized.  No  attempt  had 
been  made  by  him  to  disguise  his  identity. 

The  woman,  however,  was  garbed  as  a  poverty 
stricken  creature,  her  dress  of  cheap  material,  soiled 
and  torn,  and  a  great  gap  rendering  the  skirt  al 
most  unwearable.  An  old,  tawdry  shawl  covered 
her  head  and  were  it  not  for  the  blonde  hair  that 
showed  through  around  the  face  in  many  places, 
none  would  recognize  her. 

The    little    girl    was    likewise    cheaply    garbed. 


ioo          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

About  her  form  was  an  old  cloak  that,  patched  and 
threadbare,  was  folded  about  her  rather  slight  frame 
making  her  look  the  typical  child  of  the  poor  or  a 
waif  of  the  streets.  Her  'toes  showed  through  the 
worn-out  shoes.  Her  knees  were  apparent  as 
they  stuck  out  from  underneath  the  folds  of  the 
cloak.  Instead  of  crying  over  her  seeming  change 
of  fortune,  she  sat  back  in  the  seat  quietly,  as  if 
overcome  by  the  passing  events  and  the  shifting, 
rapid  changes  in  her  status  and  habitation. 

The  man  and  the  woman  had  scarcely  spoken, 
while  covering  the  distance  to  this  locality.  Now 
the  woman  leaned  forward  and  said,  "  We  are  near 
the  stopping  place."  The  man  opened  the  aperture 
in  front  and  in  low  tones  said  to  the  driver,  "  When 
you  make  sure  the  streets  are  deserted  stop  any 
where  about  here." 

After  this  conversation  nothing  was  heard  from 
the  interior.  The  vehicle  slowly  rolled  about  for 
an  hour  over  this  street  and  back  that  one,  all  the 
while  keeping  in  proximity  to  the  convent. 

At  last  after  what  seemed  to  the  occupants  to  be 
many  hours,  the  driver  fetched  the  carriage  up  close 
to  the  curb  and  said  to  those  inside:  "  It  is  now 
about  midnight ;  none  are  to  be  seen  hereabouts." 

The  man  and  woman  alighted,  the  woman  bear 
ing  the  child  in  her  arms.  The  child  was  innocently 
sleeping.  The  midnight  vigil  and  ride  had  over- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          101 

come  the  newness  of  the  conditions  that  first  aroused 
her,  and  nature  had  its  inning. 

"  This  way,"  the  woman  said,  as  she  led  the  way 
down  the  street.  The  noise  of  drunken  voices 
floated  on  the  night  air  to  them,  as  they  progressed, 
— drunken  voices  singing,  men's  voices  mingled 
with  the  tones  of  women,  in  ribald  songs.  Across 
the  street  came  the  screams  of  a  woman  who  may 
have  been  in  anguish  from  the  pains  of  disease,  or 
mayhap  from  the  blows  of  a  drunken  husband.  The 
wail  of  a  child  was  heard  as  if  the  mother  had  de 
serted  it  for  the  dance  hall  around  the  corner. 

Silently  the  two  strode  along,  the  woman  still 
carrying  the  child,  while  the  waiting  carriage  drove 
leisurely  about.  The  child  awoke  with  a  start  and 
cried.  She  put  her  down  and  took  her  hand.  "  I 
want  to  go  to  bed,"  wailed  the  little  one. 

"  Soon,  soon,"  came  the  woman's  answer,  an  an 
swer  that  might  have  been  harsher  had  the  woman 
possessed  less  feminine  instincts  than  she  did.  But 
aside  from  any  sentiment  she  may  have  felt  toward 
the  little  one,  there  was  the  battle  of  life  to  follow, 
as  a  thing  ever  in  front,  and  means  had  to  be  pro 
vided  for  its  contingencies. 

As  they  came  close  to  the  convent  the  woman 
whispered,  "  You  may  leave  me  here." 

"  How  do  you  expect  to  gain  entrance  ? "  he 
asked. 


102          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  I  noticed  a  wire  reaching  from  the  gate  to  the 
interior.  This  probably  connects  with  a  bell  inside 
and  by  pulling  this  wire  I  shall  arouse  the  inmates 
and  gain  access  to  the  Mother  Superior." 

"  Good  luck,"  and  he  suddenly  turned  about,  and 
retreated  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  woman  and  child  moved  forward.  No  such 
hesitancy  came  to  her  as  it  was  said  Csesar  once 
experienced.  Caesar  might  hesitate  to  extend  his 
conquest,  but  not  she  to  enlarge  her  purse.  They 
reached  the  gate.  The  woman  thrust  her  arms 
through  the  aperture  in  the  pickets  and  grasped  the 
wire  that  she  had  discovered  while  here  a  day  or 
so  before  on  a  reconnoitering  trip.  She  heard  no 
tinkling  response  from  the  inside,  but  assumed  the 
bell  did  ring.  She  waited  a  moment,  then  impa 
tiently  tugged  on  the  wire  again.  This  time  a  light 
from  within  the  dormer  window  showed  as  evidence 
of  her  efforts. 

A  few  minutes  passed  and  then  appeared  a  cloaked 
figure,  emerging  from  the  door,  coming  slowly  and 
haltingly  from  the  gate.  The  Mother  Superior, 
for  it  was  she  who  came,  pressed  close  against  the 
gate  and  peered  out  in  the  darkness  at  her  visitor. 
No  street  lights  were  visible  and  she  was  unable 
to  make  out  the  other's  form  plainly. 

"  It  is  I,  Mother,"  the  woman  said.  "  It  is  I,  a 
believer  in  the  faith." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          103 

"  What  would  you  with  me  that  you  interrupt 
my  midnight  prayer,  a  prayer  so  sacred  that  even 
the  sisters  do  not  interrupt?  " 

"  I  forgot  about  the  midnight  prayer,  Mother.  I 
am  in  need;  greatly  in  need,  so  I  forgot." 

"In  need?    How?" 

"  Poor  and  starving." 

"  '  Starving/  you  say?  Your  tones  of  voice  are 
full  and  round  to  come  from  a  starving  person. 
The  starving  speak  in  whispers." 

"  No,  Mother,  it  is  true.  I  am  in  want,  I  and 
my  child  here." 

"A  child  do  you  say?"  and  the  tones  of  the 
Mother  became  softened.  "A  child  do  you  say? 
Enter  that  I  may  see  this  child." 

The  Mother  fumbled  in  her  cloak  for  a  moment, 
produced  a  key  and  unlocked  the  gate  and  said, 
"  Enter  with  your  child." 

"  Come,  daughter,"  the  woman  said,  as  taking 
the  little  one's  hand  she  obeyed  the  command  of  the 
nun. 

Entering  the  small  reception  hall,  the  Mother 
brought  a  light.  Keeping  it  in  her  hand  she  ap 
proached  the  two  visitors.  She  looked  upon  the 
child.  "  A  sweet  child,"  she  said,  as  she  patted 
her  hand,  "  but  she  is  not  starving." 

The  hour  was  late  and  the  little  one  hungry,  and 
when  she  heard  the  Mother  say  she  was  not  starv- 


104          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

ing,  she  took  it  as  a  challenge  and  promptly  cried 
out,  "  I  am  hungry,  awful  hungry." 

The  Mother  turned  upon  the  ragged  woman  be 
fore  her. 

"What  do  you  want  here?" 

"  Shelter  for  my  child." 

The  Mother  thought  a  moment  and  answered  as 
she  looked  upon  the  little  one,  "  She  shall  have 
it,"  as  if  convinced  now  of  the  necessity  of  food 
for  the  child. 

"  Tell  me  your  -troubles,"  she  said,  as  she  turned 
upon  the  woman. 

"  My  husband,"  the  woman  said  as  her  tone  of 
voice  faltered,  "  is  a  drunkard;  he  beats  me."  Here 
she  commenced  to  sob  violently,  a  bit  of  acting  that 
deceived  the  Mother  Superior  completely. 

Falling  upon  her  knees,  the  woman  hysterically 
cried,  "  Oh,  Mother,  cannot  you  shelter  my  child 
until  such  a  time  as  I  can  better  care  for  her  ?  Can 
you  not  in  the  name  of  the  Holy  Virgin  lend  me 
help?  For  myself  it  matters  not,  but  my  child,  my 
child  must  not  suffer." 

Here  the  little  girl,  as  if  overcome  by  recollection 
of  scenes  at  home,  began  crying  lustily;  and  the 
Mother  Superior  felt  she  should  do  'Something  for 
the  two. 

"  It  is  the  same  old  story,"  she  said,  as  she 
looked  upon  the  child, — "  a  drunken  father,  a 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          105 

drunken  father."  Softly  to  herself  she  repeated  a 
prayer  and  then  going  to  the  register  near  by  said : 
"  We  will  keep  your  child,  madam ;  tell  me  her 
name.  It  is  important  that  all  here  be  registered." 

The  woman's  brain  worked  quickly.  She  saw  no 
reason  for  disguising  the  child's  name,  and  as  she 
saw  the  Mother  Superior  move  towards  the  regis 
ter  she  quickly  decided  she  would  give  the  right 
name  of  the  child. 

"  Olive  James,"  she  answered.  Why  should  she 
disguise  her  name  in  a  city  where  the  child  was 
unknown,  and  in  a  convent  of  which  few  people 
know  ? 

"It  is  only  temporary,  Mother;  I  will  claim 
Olive  soon." 

The  Mother  nodded.  "  My  child,"  she  said  to 
Mile.  Sara,  for  it  was  she,  "  shall  we  not  give  you 
a  bed  for  the  night  also  ?  " 

"  No,  good  Mother,  I  must  go  back  to  him  and  to 
my  miserable  home."  A  sigh  escaped  her  lips  so 
long  and  natural  that  the  Mother  Superior,  catch 
ing  the  inspiration  herself,  drew  a  longer  one. 

Mile.  Sara  kissed  the  little  one,  partially  because 
she  wanted  to  and  partially  to  carry  out  her  de 
ception,  and  started  to  withdraw. 

"  God  be  with  you,"  whispered  the  Mother. 

"  Thank  you." 

She  passed  through  the  gate  that  the  Mother 
had  unlocked  for  her. 


io6          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

DURAND  called  on  Mile.  Sara  a  few  days  later. 

"  Mile.  Sara,"  he  said,  "  cannot  a  plan  be  per 
fected,  whereby  this  child  Olive  might  be  proven 
legally  dead  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand,"  the  woman  had  replied. 
"  Do  you  expect  me  to  murder  ?  " 

It  would  be  supposed  that  Durand  would  now  be 
satisfied  after  depositing  the  child  in  the  convent. 
Here  if  none  interfered,  she  would  grow  up,  and 
if  in  time  she  did  not  remain  there  as  a  nun,  if  she 
chose  to  leave  the  convent,  casting  herself  out  upon 
the  world,  she  would  be  without  identity.  She  could 
not  be  expected  to  remember  the  incidents  of  her 
early  surroundings,  knowing  nothing  of  herself, 
and  having  nothing  from  her  past  life  but  her  name. 

But  Durand  now  saw  reason  for  a  deeper  con 
cealment  of  the  child.  As  guardian  without  bond 
he  could  transfer  the  securities  he  held  into 
money,  use  the  money  to  buy  others  or  even  these 
same  securities  back,  and  in  so  doing  gain  title 
in  his  own  name.  Yet  this  plan  had  its  objec- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  107 

tions  and  pitfalls.  Suppose  some  one  in  after  years 
should  take  up  the  matter  in  the  interests  of  the 
child,  and  do  battle  for  her  and  against  him  ?  Some 
one  might  arise  to  do  it.  Graham  was  the  one  he 
feared  most,  but  he  now  was  harmless,  yet  safety 
should  have  insurance,  and  he  must  fortify  himself 
against  the  invisible  others. 

"  No,"  he  answered  her  last  question ;  "  I  don't 
expect  you  to  murder  any  one,  but  did  you  not  tell 
me  the  other  night,  as  we  were  returning,  that  the 
Mother  had  asked  you  the  child's  name,  and  you 
had  given  her  real  name?  Listen!  This  day  I 
went  to  call  upon  Helen  Reed.  She  had  gone, 
given  up  her  apartments  and  none  knew  of  her 
whereabouts.  We  need  not  fear  that  she  will  rise 
up  to  contradict  the  workings  of  the  plans  I  shall 
explain  to  you." 

Again  these  two  sat  in  conference,  a  conference 
in  which  Durand  was  the  master  mind  or  chief 
plotter  as  well  as  the  financier. 

As  the  result  of  this  conference,  the  next  day  a 
carriage  again  took  Mile.  Sara  near  to  the  con 
vent.  The  woman  was  clad  in  the  same  untidy 
rags,  and  walked  the  street  boldly  in  the  light  of 
day  to  the  gate.  This  time  no  one  need  be  sum 
moned  to  open  it,  as  by  day  the  gate  was  left  un 
locked.  She  walked  boldly  in.  She  hoped  she 
might  have  a  few  moments  alone  in  that  reception 


io8          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

hall  where  she  had  been  received  on  the  occasion  of 
her  other  visit.  She  even  hoped  to  enter  and  re 
turn  undetected.  If  detected  she  reasoned  that  she 
could  show  the  most  plausible  of  excuses.  She  had 
come  to  visit  her  child.  If  she  was  suspicioned,  and 
her  mission  failed  she  would  come  again  when  con 
ditions  were  more  opportune  for  her  purpose.  She 
would  keep  coming  until  she  should  find  herself 
alone  in  that  corridor  with  none  to  interfere. 

Cautiously  she  opened  the  door  and  stepped  inside 
the  corridor.  No  one  was  there.  Moving  quickly 
along  to  the  desk,  that  held  the  register,  she  took 
from  the  interior  of  her  ragged  dress  a  fountain 
pen.  Unsheathing  it,  and  bearing  down  heavily  so 
the  flow  of  ink  would  be  correspondingly  heavy, 
she  over  traced  the  words  "  Olive  James  "  that  the 
Mother  had  written.  Over  the  top  of  this  column 
which  she  had  traced  was  printed  the  word 
"  Name "  in  bold  type ;  following  this  was  the 
column  for  "  Ages,"  followed  by  others  of  ex 
planations,  and  the  last  column  read  "  Final  Dis 
position."  Here  Mile.  Sara  wrote  "  Died  "  the— 

day  of  in  the  year  This  date  was 

the  exact  date  of  this  visit,  or  five  days  later  than 
the  previous  visit.  Again  reaching  into  her  dress 
she  drew  forth  a  clean  blotting  paper.  Hastily  and 
before  the  ink  was  dry,  she  applied  it  to  the  parts 
her  pen  had  touched.  For  a  moment  she  left  it, 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          109 

smoothing  its  upper  surface  carefully  meanwhile, 
that  the  impression  might  be  perfect.  That  blotter 
had  been  handed  her  before  she  alighted  from  the 
carriage,  clean  and  white,  and  the  impression  which 
it  would  bear  when  she  returned  it  would  secure  an 
addition  to  her  funds,  that  had  grown  so  rapidly  of 
late.  She  examined  the  reverse  side  as  she  with 
drew  it,  and  evidently  found  it  to  her  liking,  for 
she  smiled  when  she  looked  upon  it. 

"  The  nuns  are  at  prayer,"  she  whispered  as 
she  heard  the  sweet  music  of  an  invocation  float  to 
her.  Concealing  the  pen  and  the  blotter,  again  she 
passed  out  of  the  convent  and  over  the  walk  to  the 
street. 

Two  hours  later  she  was  home  and  counting  the 
money, — money  this  trip  and  trick  had  brought 
her.  "  Now,"  she  said,  "  I  will  go  back  home,  back 
to  Paris,  the  soil  of  which  I  love.  I  have  wealth 
now.  The  three  times  Monsieur  has  employed  me 
have  paid  well, — Oh,  so  well," — as  she  hugged  the 
money  to  herself.  "  No  more  activities  for  me.  In 
Paris  one  can  live  well,  on  so  little." 

Durand  on  the  other  hand,  at  home  sat  studying 
the  reversed  letters  on  the  blotter.  "  It  is  O.K," 
he  said,  as  the  old  evil  look  we  have  seen  before 
when  he  had  been  successful  came  into  his  eyes  and 
face.  "  That  settles  it,  I  hold  here  proof  of  the 
death  of  my  ward.  Her  money  is  now  mine. 


no          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Nothing  can  ever  be  called  up  or  proven  against 
me.  In  all  this  affair  my  hand  has  been  concealed, 
even  more  successfully  than  the  hands  of  the  banker 
are  concealed  in  the  stock  market  manipulations," 
as  his  mind  reverted  to  Graham. 

Again  holding  up  the  blotter  he  looked  at  it 
with  manifest  satisfaction.  Still  holding  it  in 
his  hand,  as  the  words  spelled  emancipation  he 
called  out :  "  Perkins  come  here."  Perkins  came. 
"  In  one  week  I  start  out  to  see  the  world.  In 
seeing  it  I  shall  encompass  it.  For  many  a  year 
these  haunts  shall  know  me  no  more ! " 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          in 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  seasons  had  revolved  one-half,  changing  the 
drear  of  Fall  to  the  joyousness  of  Spring.  Instead 
of  barrenness  and  dry  leaves,  the  earth  had  shot 
forth  her  grass  and  the  trees  their  leaves.  The 
trailing  vine  over  the  convent  of  the  Holy  Apostles 
had  changed  its  brown  of  winter  to  the  greenness 
that  delights  the  eye.  The  gardens  were  full  of 
early  roses.  Here  and  there  buds  of  flowers  gave 
promise  of  future  beauty  and  perfume. 

One  pleasant  morning  the  nuns  walked  about 
with  the  children.  On  this  particular  morning, 
the  Mother  Superior  had  accompanied  them,  some 
dozen  in  all,  perhaps,  of  the  little  unfortunate  girls. 
Their  faces  showed  delight  at  what  they  saw  of 
nature,  within  the  limited  walls  of  the  convent  gar 
den.  Two  by  two  they  passed  about,  the  nuns 
responding  to  their  many  questions. 

Stopping  at  one  particular  arbor  that  was  en 
twined  heavily  with  early  June  roses,  the  Mother 
said,  "  See,  my  children,  the  beautiful  roses  God  has 
given  us  that  we  may  look  upon,  not  only  enjoying 
the  sight  and  their  sweet  odors,  but  in  them  see 


ii2          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Him.  But  a  short  time  ago  these  vines  were  black 
and  bare.  What  a  transformation !  It  is  so  with 
the  soul.  Though  we  wither  and  die,  yet  shall  we 
come  forth  at  the  resurrection." 

She  stepped  up  and  picked  one  of  the  largest  of 
the  roses.  "Whoever  saw  anything  so  beautiful; 
has  any  one  here?"  She  looked  about,  expecting 
to  find  many  negative  answers  from  the  bright  eyes 
intently  fastened  upon  her.  Several  shook  their 
heads.  Others  maintained  silence  as  if  they  knew 
not  what  was  required  for  them  to  say. 

The  girls'  frocks  of  blue,  with  white  aprons,  were 
alike.  At  a  distance  they  could  not  be  identified. 
At  close  range  their  features,  of  course,  were  the 
means  of  identification.  One  who,  by  her  pale,  dark 
face  and  large  intelligent  eyes,  the  Mother  knew 
to  be  the  little  girl  who  had  been  left  there  by  the 
woman  with  the  blonde  hair,  answered: 

"  I  have  seen  more  beautiful  roses." 

"Where?" 

"  In  our  garden  at  home,"  she  went  on,  "  we 
had  hyacinths  and  marigolds  and  roses  all  as  pretty 
as  these  and  some  more  so.  I  like  pretty  things 
too,"  she  said,  "  pretty  hats  and  dresses, — and 
candies  as  I  used  to  have  them."  The  other  little 
girls  who  had  known  these  beautiful  things  only  by 
hearsay  or  story,  gazed  with  eyes,  ears  and  mouths 
open. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          113 

"  Hush,  child,"  said  the  Mother. 

Olive  did  not  hush.  "  I  do  not  like  those  plain 
blue  dresses.  Once  I  had  a  red  one,  trimmed  with 
braid  and  gold  quartz  buttons.  My  last  mamma 
had  promised  me  a  little  fur  lined  coat  for  last 
winter,  but  some  one  took  me  away  from  her  and 
then  I  came  here.  I  would  rather  go  back  with 
my  mamma,"  she  added, 

"  Cease  this  worldly  talk,"  the  Mother  said,  as 
she  noticed  the  reference  the  child  had  made  to  her 
former  home.  She  knew  now  that  the  child  did 
not  belong  to  the  blonde  woman  who  had  left  her. 
She  distrusted  entirely  this  ragged  woman  who  had 
brought  Olive.  She  remembered  now  the  slight 
French  accent  with  which  the  woman  spoke.  The 
child  she  could  see  had  no  French  blood  in  her 
veins.  Besides,  the  one  was  dark  and  the  other 
light  in  complexion.  There  was  no  family  resem 
blance.  Certainly  this  woman  had  not  given  these 
beautiful  things  she  mentioned.  Why  had  she  not 
noticed  these  things  before.  Perhaps  the  child  had 
been  stolen  and  taken  from  her  own.  She  would 
later  investigate.  Just  then  a  bell  in  the  convent 
sounded. 

"  Sisters,"  said  the  Mother,  "  march  the  children 
into  the  chapel  that  they  may  see  the  solemn  pro 
ceedings  that  shall  take  place  there  this  morning. 
8 


H4          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  bell  summons  me  and  I  will  now  prepare  for 
the  ceremony." 

An  hour  later,  pealing  through  the  corridors  of 
the  chapel  and  the  various  rooms  of  the  convent  the 
music  of  the  chapel  organ  sounded,  to  die  down 
to  a  hushed  tone  as  the  solemn  Te  Deum  was 
chanted  by  female  voices  coming  from  an  enclosure 
just  back  of  the  organ.  Ave  Marias  followed. 
More  of  the  grand  notes  from  the  organ  again 
shook  the  building. 

From  the  door  at  the  left  entered  a  procession. 
The  Mother  Superior  was  at  its  head.  Then  came 
nuns  and  finally  a  novitiate, — she  who  would  this 
day  enter  upon  her  life  as  a  novitiate,  avowed  to 
new  things,  renouncing  the  world  to  live  only  for 
others. 

An  hour  later  the  trying  ordeal  was  over.  To 
Christ,  the  Church  and  suffering  humanity,  the  life 
of  the  novitiate  had  been  consecrated.  The  sisters 
started  from  the  altar,  the  procession  that  in  ap 
proaching  the  altar  before  had  in  its  line  a  recruit 
from  the  world,  a  woman  anxious  to  leave  this 
world  behind.  Now  she  marched  from  the  altar  a 
novitiate.  Her  brief  term  as  a  candidate  had 
proven  her  all  that  was  desired.  This  newly  made 
novitiate  moved  with  faltering,  hesitating  steps. 
The  fasting  preceding  had  weakened  her  physical 
body.  She  was  supported  on  each  side  by  a  nun, 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          115 

whose  duty  it  was  to  attend  her  in  case  she  felt  sick 
or  faint.  Slowly  the  procession  moved  across  the 
front  of  the  rather  narrow  chapel,  and  turned  to  the 
left,  thence  along  the  left  to  the  exit  where  the 
principal  actor  would  repair  to  the  solitude  of  her 
cell  to  fast,  pray,  and  commune  alone  for  a  time, 
from  which  she  would  emerge  eventually  to  take 
her  part  in  the  great  dispensing  of  goodness  and 
self-denial  that  would  follow  in  her  life. 

However,  after  the  procession  had  turned  the 
angle  at  the  left  and  come  towards  the  seats 
whereon  were  huddled  the  little  ones  called  from 
the  garden  a  short  time  before,  the  newly  made 
novitiate's  veil  was  lifted  and  she  looked  about  her. 
Simultaneously  with  the  lifting  of  the  veil,  the  cry 
of  "  mamma  "  repeated  thrice  came  from  one  of  the 
little  ones.  The  Holy  Mother  looked  aghast.  The 
nuns  stopped  and  their  faces  blanched.  This  unholy 
interruption  merited  punishment  they  knew,  which 
they  would  dread  to  witness.  Besides  the  passing 
events  of  the  hour  aroused  superstitious  dread,  a 
thing  sometimes  present  in  the  minds  of  those  of 
deep  religions  conviction,  or  those  who  practise 
assiduously  religious  rites. 

Horror-stricken  were  they  when  they  saw  the 
little  Olive  James  rush  past  those  who  would  re 
strain  her,  and  eagerly  run  to  the  candidate,  her 
arms  outstretched,  the  cry  "  mamma "  upon  her 
lips. 


n6          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Consternation  reigned.  The  recently  made  novi 
tiate  went  forward  crying,  "  Olive !  How  came 
you  here?  Tell  me,  child."  But  the  only  answer 
she  received  was  the  same  "  mamma." 

The  Mother  Superior  turned  about  and  made  her 
way  to  the  pair  who  were  responsible  for  the  delay 
and  the  amazement. 

Her  voice  trembled  as  she  asked,  "  What  means 
this  unusual  scene?  Explain  at  once  and  in  the 
presence  of  these  sisters  here,  who  are  shocked." 

"  There  is  little  to  explain,  Holy  Mother.  This 
little  one  I  knew  when  I  was  out  in  the  world.  She 
was  stolen  from  me.  I  find  her  here.  By  reason 
of  my  loss  of  her,  she  whom  God  gave  to  my  care, 
I  came  here,  hoping  that  if  I  could  not  longer 
serve  her  I  might  help  and  serve  others.  That  is 
all." 

"  But  the  little  one  called  you  '  mother.'  You 
have  assured  us  you  were  a  virgin.  Is  that  so?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  spoke  the  truth  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mother,  she  is  not  my  child.  I  was  to 
her  a  mother,  and  allowed  her  to  so  call  me." 

"  Enough  for  now,"  said  the  Mother,  as  she  took 
Olive's  arm  and  seated  her  from  whence  she  had 
come. 

The  procession  then  moved  forward. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          117 


CHAPTER  IV. 

WE  have  shown  the  proceedings  that  made  Helen 
Reed  a  novitiate,  proceedings  that  ended  in  a  great 
surprise  to  all  concerned.  It  is  only  fair  that  we 
explain  briefly  how  this  woman  came  to  where  we 
last  saw  her.  The  fact  that  she  was  a  Catholic 
has  been  confided  already.  Her  religion  figured  in 
the  first  rupture  between  her  and  Mortimer  James. 
Always  consistent  in  her  religious  convictions,  in 
outward  manifestations  she  was  always  tolerant  to 
wards  others  and  exacted  the  same  towards  herself. 
This  had  been  her  attitude  towards  her  former 
lover.  He  had  not  entirely  given  up  his  own  ideas 
inculcated  by  being  reared  in  the  Protestant  faith, 
when  the  woman  he  afterwards  married  appeared 
on  the  scene.  Her  wealth  furnished  a  most  alluring 
reason  for  severing  the  attachment  between  himself 
and  Helen  Reed.  Besides  he  then  told  her  he  might 
tolerate  it  in  her,  but  he  would  never  consent  that 
their  children  should  be  reared  in  the  Catholic 
faith.  She  was  right  in  her  suspicion,  however, 
that  the  wealth  of  this  new  rival  had  more  to  do 
with  the  matter  than  did  her  religion. 


n8          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Helen  Reed  \vas  not  born  in  the  Catholic  faith. 
Her  dear  old  father,  to  whose  care  her  mother  at 
her  death  had  consigned  her,  had  reared  her  in  the 
Protestant  faith,  he  being  an  Episcopal  divine.  The 
ritual  of  the  latter  church  had  impressed  her  as 
empty  of  things  she  sought.  Her  place  was  with 
those  of  the  mother  church ;  she  had  a  desire  for  the 
traditional  rites  and  historic  ceremonies  of  the 
ancient  Greeks  as  copied  by  the  mother  church.  In 
the  Catholic  Church  she  found  her  heart's  desire. 

At  the  death  of  her  father,  whose  pastorate  in  a 
small  country  town  had  given  little  chance  for  the 
accumulation  of  wealth,  thrown  on  her  own  re 
sources  and  being  obliged  to  earn  her  own  living, 
she  had  taken  up  with  the  work  in  the  hospital  as  a 
nurse  where  Durand  in  his  search  had  found  her. 

At  this  time,  she  had  about  resolved  in  her  own 
mind  to  enter  a  convent.  She  had  a  desire  to  be 
inside  a  convent,  where  impressive  ceremonies  and 
rites  were  exacted. 

The  coming  of  Olive  James  into  her  life,  how 
ever,  had  for  the  time  changed  her  mind,  for  she 
realized  that  perhaps  she  had  been  called  elsewhere 
to  perform  her  duty  to  the  world  and  mankind. 
This  and  the  fact  that  she  distrusted  Durand  had 
actuated  her  change  of  mind  the  day  he  called  upon 
her.  bringing  the  little  girl. 

After  Olive  had  left  her.  there  seemed  nothing 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          119 

else  to  do  but  enter  a  convent,  as  the  voice  within 
seemed  to  say  her  place  in  life  was  to  continue  it  as 
a  nun.  She  had  made  a  diligent  search  for  Olive 
unassisted,  and  came  to  know  full  well  that  this 
search  was  futile,  that  Durand  had  outwitted  her. 
Giving  up  the  search,  she  had  through  her  con 
fessor  sought  a  shelter  in  a  convent  and  succeeded  in 
finding  the  one  described,  wherein  she  had  found 
Olive. 

From  the  day  she  became  a  novitiate,  her  in 
terest  in  Olive  was  deeper  than  before.  By  gradual 
questioning  she  elicited  from  her  the  story  of  her 
kidnapping  and  learned  of  the  blonde  woman  who 
had  brought  her  there.  One  day  she  became  in 
terested  in  what  name  had  been  given  Olive  at  the 
time  she  was  left  there.  "  Olive "  she  was  still 
called  by  all,  and  she  wondered  if  Durand  or  this 
woman  was  audacious  enough  to  give  the  child's 
real  name.  She  questioned  the  Mother  Superior. 
Such  details  had  escaped  her.  The  sister  could 
examine  the  register  herself  if  she  chose.  The 
register  forthwith  was  consulted.  There  she  found 
Olive's  full  name  given,  also  she  read  the  startling 
information  that  the  child  was  dead.  She  hurriedly 
sought  the  Mother. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  "  I  read  in  the  register  that 
the  death  of  Olive  James  was  recorded  some  little 
time  ago.  Why  is  this?" 


120          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  I  know  not,"  said  the  Mother,  "  I  will  see  it 
mysellf;  I  cannot  believe  our  books  have  been  tam 
pered  with." 

So  saying  she  repaired  to  the  corridor  where  she 
consulted  the  book. 

"  It  is  true,"  she  said,  "  Olive's  death  is  re 
corded.  Why  I  cannot  say.  By  whom  I  know  not. 
The  handwriting  is  by  none  here,  I  am  sure.  Some 
one  from  out  in  the  world  has  done  this.  I  wonder, 
why." 

The  novitiate  thought,  "  I  know  who  and  why. 
Durand  is  who  and  Olive's  money  is  why."  After 
this,  she  thought  seriously  over  this  false  entry. 
The  Mother  made  inquiry  regarding  the  conduct 
of  all  recent  visitors,  but  as  Mme.  Sara  had  come  and 
gone  all  unseen,  her  connection  with  it  was  not 
discovered.  The  novitiate  considered  it  as  a  warn 
ing  that  Olive  might  still  be  in  danger.  She  con 
sidered  it  a  move  on  the  part  of  Durand  to  effec 
tively  hide  Olive.  Suppose  again  he  might,  as  he 
considered  on  how  small  a  matter  hinged  his  safety, 
decide  it  necessary  that  she  be  further  secreted.  He 
who  could  penetrate  to  the  sanctity  of  a  convent 
and  falsify  its  records  could  do  much,  if  not  every 
thing,  that  he  set  out  to  do.  She  feared  he  might 
some  day  come  back  to  further  obliterate,  from 
those  who  knew  her,  the  memory  of  the  little  one. 
She  longed  for  something  to  happen  that  would 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          121 

frustrate  this,  hoping  that  Olive,  in  some  way,  might 
leave  the  convent,  even  though  this  change  would 
give  her  much  concern.  Yet  she  who  was  Helen 
Reed  longed  for  the  coming  of  some  circumstance 
that  would  place  Olive  beyond  the  reach  of  that 
evil  genius,  Durand. 

A  year  went  by,  and  again  on  a  bright  Spring 
morning  the  inmates  of  the  convent  were  summoned 
•to  the  chapel.  The  little  ones  were  seated  as  be 
fore.  The  nuns  filed  in,  led  by  the  Mother.  The 
organ  pealed  forth  its  notes  of  sweetness,  fol 
lowed  by  the  melancholy  notes  of  the  funeral  march. 
The  procession  stopped  before  the  altar  and  solemn 
vows  were  pledged,  the  world  was  renounced  and 
personal  abnegation  was  pledged  by  the  candidate. 
She  would  henceforth  devote  herself  to  others. 
She  would  suffer,  if  need  be,  as  the  Master  had 
suffered,  and  for  his  sake  in  the  world.  It  was  a 
solemn,  awful  vow,  yet  she  who  repeated  it  fal 
tered  not.  Clearly  the  resolute  affirmative  answers 
were  responded  to  and  Helen  Reed,  the  novitiate, 
became  Sister  Celestine.  When  it  was  over,  the 
Mother  held  aloft  her  hand  for  silence  and  atten 
tion,  and  said,  "  Let  me  announce  the  glad  news. 
We  who  are  out  of  the  world  welcome  glad  news. 
Glad  news  to  us  means  not  what  it  once  did, — then 
it  was  pleasure,  now  it  means  a  further  chance  to 
fulfill  our  mission,  to  perform  our  work.  We  wel- 


122          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

come  these  things  that  compel  the  endurance  of  suf 
fering,  for  tried  in  its  crucible  we  are  fit  for  our 
work.  In  the  world  there  is  strife  and  contention; 
here,  none,  except  we  strive  as  to  who  can  best 
serve  our  cause.  Let  this  then  be  a  contention  as 
to  who  will  perform  the  work  I  will  mention. 

"  In  a  far  off  Southern  country,  English-speak 
ing  sisters  are  needed.  I  glory  that  we  have  an 
opportunity  to  show  our  sacrifice  for  that  country. 
It  is  disease-infected,  hot,  and  intensely  wicked. 
Fortitude  and  help  from  the  Holy  Mother  alone 
can  sustain  her  who  attempts  this  mission.  I  will 
call  for  volunteers.  Who  will  go  ?  " 

Each  and  every  nun  raised  her  hand,  including 
the  newly-made  Sister  Celestine. 

"  Good,"  the  Mother  said,  "  but  only  one  can  be 
spared  at  present.  Which  shall  it  be?" 

Then  she  called  upon  each  sister,  asking  each  why 
she  considered  herself  fitted  or  called  .upon  for 
sacrifice.  The  answers  were  varied  and  enlighten 
ing.  One  could  best  go  because  she  had  no  worldly 
parents  to  mourn  the  distance  that  separated  them. 
Another  was  formerly  from  the  South  and  by 
previous  acclimation  could  cope  with  the  adverse 
climatic  conditions, — and  so  on  the  answers  came. 

At  last  the  Mother  spoke  thus :  "  Sister  Celestine, 
you  though  but  a  sister  of  a  few  moments  show 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          123 

a  devotion  to  the  cause  that  is  commendable.  Why, 
sister,  should  you  go?" 

"  Mother,"  was  the  answer,  "  I  am  fit  only  in  this 
that  by  going,  I  may,  if  the  little  one  here  that  is 
dear  to  me  can  go  along,  save  a  human  life,  her  life. 
Her  short  existence  has  been  beset  with  many  diffi 
culties,  and  her  future  pathway  may,  I  fear,  if  she 
stays  here,  be  one  of  danger.  I  fear  for  her  life." 

"  Our  first  precept  is  to  do  good  to  others,"  re 
turned  the  Mother.  "  I  am  satisfied  by  the  falsify 
ing  of  the  register  that  this  little  one  is  in  danger. 
Sister,  you  may  go,  and  take  the  little  one  with  you. 
May  the  Holy  and  Blessed  Virgin  intercede  in  your 
behalf." 

"  Praise  and  adoration  to  the  Holy  Virgin," 
echoed  the  Sisters. 


124          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


BOOK  II. 
CHAPTER  I. 

JUST  off  the  walk  in  one  of  the  street  cafes,  which 
are  without  side  walls  or  coverings,  save  an  awning, 
in  a  foreign  city,  a  man  sat  dining. 

Did  I  say  a  foreign  city?  Yes,  'tis  true.  A  city 
about  which  perhaps  more  has  been  said  and  written 
than  of  any  municipality  in  the  world.  The  great 
Hugo,  himself  its  resident,  in  that  great  dramatic 
work,  "  Les  Miserables  "  in  which  are  incorporated 
logic,  science,  religion  and  the  varied  play  of  hu 
man  passions,  takes  a  multitude  of  words  to  de 
scribe  it. 

The  city  has  long  been  known  as  the  center  of 
French  society,  festivities,  and  fashions  as  well;  a 
city  where  in  the  past,  empires  and  republics  have 
been  born  and  blood  spilled.  Its  records  abound  in 
tales  of  deposed  kings,  of  men  and  women  unfaith 
ful  to  the  marriage  vows,  these  high  in  matters  of 
state  too;  and  of  amorous  prelate  and  prince,  and 
of  a  disreputable  priesthood. 

The  time  was  evening,  that  time  when  the  vicious 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          125 

awaken,  when  thieves  come  forth  to  do  their  malevo 
lent  work,  when  the  denizens  of  the  dark  "  other 
half  "  ply  their  trades  of  crime  and  licentiousness. 
The  man  dining  was  busy  at  his  newspaper,  as  he 
waited  for  his  dinner,  stopping  from  time  to  time 
to  taste  the  food  or  sip  the  wine  before  him.  The 
paper  he  was  reading  had  an  American  title,  so  it 
was  easy  to  guess  that  few  men  would  read  a 
French  publication  of  an  American  journal  without 
being  an  American  himself. 

As  he  ate  he  occasionally  lowered  his  paper  and 
looked  about  him.  Then  it  might  be  observed  that 
he  was  a  little  past  forty  years — perhaps,  a  man 
noble  to  look  upon,  yet  a  man  of  the  world,  one 
who  had  seen  things  and  knew  them  by  their  right 
names.  His  hair  had  been  formerly  black,  but  was 
now  streaked  with  gray.  Did  I  say  he  was  noble? 
Yes,  his  well-preserved  person,  his  large  frame  and 
his  broad  shoulders  and  high  forehead  were  good  to 
look  upon.  His  expression  about  the  eyes  and 
mouth,  however,  to  a  close  observer,  would  belie  the 
outward  marks  as  described,  for  those  eyes  were 
hard  and  shifting,  that  mouth  was  uncompromis 
ingly  selfish  and  cruel.  As  you  observed  him  closely, 
you  came  to  believe  him  a  man  who  lived  but  for 
himself,  a  man  without  generosity,  or  even  kindness 
in  his  nature. 

All  at  once  he  became  engrossed  in  some  article 


126          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

before  him.  He  read  and  re-read  it.  While  he 
was  so  engaged,  he  failed  to  notice  what  took  place 
before  him,  failed  to  see  a  woman  of  nearly  his  own 
age  come  by,  look  him  over  curiously,  walk  past, 
came  back  again,  observe  him  and  finally  seat  her 
self  at  his  table  and  opposite  him.  Nor  did  he  ob 
serve  her  take  up  the  menu,  ordering  from  it  a 
dinner,  including  a  bottle  of  wine.  A  laughable 
thought  seemed  to  strike  her,  a  joke  as  it  were. 
Again  motioning  the  waiter,  in  an  undertone  she 
told  him  to  charge  her  dinner  to  him  who  was 
opposite  her.  The  waiter  seemed  at  first  dum- 
founded,  but  the  smiles  and  good  will  of  the  wroman 
prevailed,  and  he  did  as  he  was  directed.  The  man 
was  so  interested  that  for  some  time  he  was 
oblivious  of  what  transpired  about  him.  At  last 
he  ejaculated,  "The  Devil!  He  is  dead.  I  feared 
none  but  him." 

The  woman  made  a  curious  motion  with  one 
hand.  He  seemed  resentful  of  her  presence. 

"  Did  my  words  sound  like  profanity,  mademoi 
selle?  "  he  said.  "  They  were  not,  I  assure  you." 

"  Nay,"  she  said,  "  I  know  they  were  not  profane, 
yet  I  made  the  token  of  his  most  Satanic  Majesty, 
the  Devil." 

"The  Devil,  you  say;  are  you  right-minded, 
mademoiselle?  " 

"  Perfectly." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          127 

"  Funny,"  he  said,  "  I  utter  the  name  of  the 
Devil,  in  which  most  all  of  the  civilized  world  be 
lieves,  and  you  make  a  sign  that  you  claim  is  a 
token  of  the  Devil.  Indeed  it  is  strange.  You  in 
terest  me.  Your  sign  looked  to  me  to  be  following 
the  lines  of  the  forked  tail  of  the  Devil." 

"  Exactly,"  said  she,  "  that  was  it." 

"  And  you,  a  woman,  dare  do  this ;  you  a  woman 
who  should  be  better  than  a  man?  A  woman,  too, 
more  often  believes  in  God  than  a  man." 

"  Do  you  believe  in  God  ?  "  she  suddenly  asked. 

"  Why,  yes.  I  suppose  so,"  he  said.  "  Why 
shouldn't  I  ?  I  was  reared  that  way,  yet  had  I  been 
born  an  Indian  I  suppose  the  Great  Waconda 
would  have  answered  my  purpose  just  as  Mo 
hammed  would  have  answered  it  had  I  been  born 
in  that  faith. 

"  That's  it,"  she  said,  "  any  Deity  will  do,  I  sup 
pose.  Why  not  worship  the  Devil  then  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  see  the  force  of  your  argument. 
Yes,  why  not?  Merely  because  my  training  has 
been  along  different  lines,  not  that  I  worship  God, 
for  I  never  think  of  him  in  that  light.  Yet,  let  us 
change  the  subject.  Who  are  you  that  you  thus 
thrust  yourself  upon  me  and  order  at  my  expense?  " 
This  he  said  smilingly. 

She  laughed.  "  As  an  old  friend  I  thought  I 
might  take  the  liberty  of  playing  a  certain  trick 


128          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

upon  you,  that  of  ordering  at  your  expense,  a  trick 
of  the  girls  off  the  street,  you  know." 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  know  the  trick.  Ordinarily 
I  resent  it,  but  your  talk  about  that  friend  of  yours, 
the  Devil,  interested  me,  so  I  protest  not.  But, 
mademoiselle,  there  is  something  about  you  that 
suggests  we  have  met  before.  Yet  I  cannot  place 
you,  but  from  the  past  there  is  an  echo  of  famil 
iarity.  I  am  sure  I  have  seen  you  before.  You  are 
French?  Yet  you  speak  English  perfectly  with 
scarcely  any  accent.  I  am  an  American.  I  could 
almost  think  you  were." 

"  No,  I  am  French,  as  you  said  first." 

"  You  said  as  an  old  friend  you  took  the  liberties 
you  did  with  me.  Tell  me,  have  we  met  before?" 

"  Yes,  we  have  met  before." 

"  When  ?     Tell  me  at  once." 

"  In  America." 

"  In  America  ?  You  are  jesting.  Yet  perhaps  'tis 
so.  Let  me  look  you  over."  And  he  scrutinized 
her  closely.  "  In  America?  I  just  read  an  Ameri 
can  paper  here.  I  learned  of  the  death  of  an  old 
employer  of  mine, — a  friend, — I  was  going  to  say, 
yet  he  wouldn't  so.state  it,  were  it  for  him  to  state." 

"  No  ?  "  she  said  inquiringly  as  if  to  draw  him 
out. 

"  No,"  he  repeated.  "  I  knew  too  much  about  him 
to  have  him  still  call  me  his  friend.  No  one  looks 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  129 

upon  you  as  his  friend  when  he  knows  you  possess 
knowledge  detrimental  to  him.  His  suspicions  that 
you  may  tell  on  him  destroy  his  love  for  you." 

"  Oh  I  don't  know, — should  I  know  things  about 
you  that  it  would  not  do  to  uncover  would  you  not 
call  me  still  a  friend?" 

"  By  the  rule  just  spoken,  no." 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "if. you  knew  things  about 
me  equally  incriminating  would  we  not  be  friends 
then?" 

"  Friends  in  need  are  friends  indeed,"  evasively 
he  repeated. 

"  Just  so,"  she  said,  "  we  should  be  friends." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  woman  ?  Who  are  you  any 
way?" 

"  I  mean  that  by  the  rule  on  which  we  both 
agreed  we  should  be  friends.  As  to  who  I  am, 
when  I  say  that  by  that  rule  we  should  be  friends, 
do  you  not  know  me  ?  " 

"  Which  means  that  in  something  we  are  both 
implicated.  Let  me  see."  Again  he  closely  looked 
into  her  face.  Momentarily  was  all.  He  extended 
his  hand.  "  Mile.  Sara  Le  Blanc,"  he  said. 

"  Mr.  Herbert  Durand,"  she  said,  "  I  am  Sara 
Le  Blanc,  or  she  who  was  Sara  Le  Blanc,  but  no 
longer  known  by  that  name.  To-day  I  am  Mile. 
Ullith,  if  you  please  High  Priestess  of  the  Society 
in  France  of  the  Luciferians." 
9 


130          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Luciferians,"  he  said,  "  the  Devil !  " 

"  That  is  it,"  she  said,  as  she  again  made  the  sign 
of  the  forked  tail.  "  We  are  called  '  Devil  Wor 
shippers.'  ' 

"  The  Devil,"  he  again  said,  "  woman,  are  you 
crazy?  The  Devil.  Luciferians?  Devil  Wor 
shippers.  What  does  that  mean?" 

Again  she  made  the  sign  of  the  barbed  tail  at  his 
profanation  of  the  name. 

"  Exactly  as  I  have  told  you.  I  am  the  High 
Priestess." 

"  The  she-devil,"  he  said  laughingly. 

"  Well,  yes,"  she  assented. 

He  looked  her  over.  "  The  job  pays  well,"  he 
said  as  he  noted  her  fine  clothes. 

"  Oh,  yes,  or  I  wouldn't  do  it." 

"  Who  pays  for  the  fine  feathers  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  The  old  Devil  I  suppose." 

"  No,  a  friend." 

"  Ah,  I  see,  he's  a  Luciferian  too." 

She  nodded. 

"  Where  do  you  live?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  a  street  close  by  the  temple  of  Satan.  Come 
and  see  me  some  time  when  he  is  not  in,"  as  she 
handed  her  card  to  him." 

"Who?     The  Devil?" 

"  No,  the  man  who  pays  for  the  clothes." 

Durand  looked  at  her  curiously.     At  last  he  un- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          131 

derstood.  Time  was  when  he  would  have  resented 
that  invitation.  Yet  now  after  these  fifteen  years 
that  had  passed  since  the  former  meeting  with  the 
woman,  he  had  tasted  the  flesh-pots  of  Egypt  and  he 
promised  to  come.  The  time  she  fixed. 

"Who  was  your  friend  who  has  died?"  she 
asked  as  they  were  on  their  second  bottle  of  wine. 

"  Charles  Graham,"  he  answered,  "  president  of 

Bank.  You  may  never  have  heard  his  name 

when  in  America.  It  was  there  I  worked.  It  was 
there  the  funds  of  mine  were  deposited." 

"  Yours  ?  "  she  asked  playfully.     "  Yours  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mine,"  he  said.     "  At  least  now." 

"  And  by  my  act  too,"  she  answered. 

"  Yes,  you  did  me  a  good  turn,  I  will  admit, — 
a  good  turn.  You  were  well  paid." 

"  Well  paid  ?  That  went  long  ago.  It  is  all 
gone,"  she  said. 

'  Your  own  fault.  Evidently  this  Devil  business 
of  yours  is  expensive." 

"  No,  not  exactly,  but  one  has  to  live.  Besides 
I  have  not  been  the  High  Priestess  for  a  great 
while.  My  money  was  gone  before  I  was  a  High 
Priestess. 

"  And  you,"  she  asked.  "  How  have  you  squan 
dered  yours?" 

"  I  have  it  yet,"  as  he  closed  his  teeth  tightly. 


132          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Yes,"  and  her  face  lighted  up.  "  Yes,  you  have 
it  yet." 

"You  bet,"  he  returned.  "Why  not?  Why 
should  I  spend  it  or  give  it  away?" 

"  Yes,  why,"  she  echoed,  as  she  took  on  a  far 
away  look. 

"  Strange  isn't  it,"  he  said,  "  that  I  should  not 
have  known  you  ?  " 

She  smiled.  "  I  was  then  only  an  ordinary  in 
dividual,  now  I  am  a  High  Priestess  I  tell  you,  so 
it  is  not  so  strange." 

"  But  that  hair.  I  should  have  known  it  in 
Africa,"  as  he  glanced  at  her  blonde  locks. 

"  Or  Hades,"  she  said. 

"  Woman,  why  these  hellish  and  devilish  infer 
ences  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  member,  etc.,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know.  Any  way  your  hair  with  its 
peculiar  phosphorescent  glow  is  suggestive  of  all 
you  claim,"  he  laughed.  "  Any  one  by  that  should 
know  you  were  an  imp  of  earth  if  not  of  darkness." 

She  interrupted  him  suddenly.  "  \Vhat  of  little 
Olive?  I  almost  loved  the  child.  Where  is  she?" 

"  In  the  convent  of  the  Holy  Apostles  yet,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "  why,  man,  she  is  a  woman 
now;  she  has  long  since  left  there  unless  she  is  a 
nun." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          133 

"A  woman,"  did  you  say.     "A  woman?" 

"  Why,  yes,  that  was  fifteen  years  ago, — you  re 
member.  Fifteen  years  during  which  you  and  I 
have  grown  old." 

"  You  don't  show  it,"  he  said.  "  You  don't  look 
a  day  older  than  when  I  saw  you  last.  I  have 
grown  old.  See  my  hair  is  gray.  What  has  kept 
you  young?  " 

"  My  habits  and  religion,"  she  answered. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  of  the  Satanists, 
they  who  worship  the  Devil.  What  about  them? 
Who  are  the  Devil  Worshippers?  What  do  they 
believe  ?  " 

'  They  believe  not  in  a  God  and  perhaps  not  in 
the  Devil  either,  but  to  show  their  disbelief  in  God 
they  worship  the  Devil.  Another  time,"  she  said, 
"  and  you  shall  know  all.  Aye,  you  may  be  made 
acquainted  when  you  call." 

She  arose  to  go. 

"  He  will  be  home  before  long,  I  must  precede 
him,"  she  said. 

"  He?    Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  "  so  he  will." 

"  Good  night,"  and  she  extended  her  hand. 

"  Good  night,"  and  he  grasped  it  with  far  more 
pressure  than  he  had  done  when  they  last  met. 


134          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER   II. 

X  FEW  days  later,  prompted  by  the  invitation  of 
Mile.  Sara  or  Lillith,  as  the  Luciferians  had  named 
her,  Durand  called  upon  her  at  the  address  she  had 
given.  Her  declaration  that  she  lived  close  by 
the  Temple  of  Satan  had  passed  unnoticed  by  him 
at  the  time.  Nor  did  he  know  of  its  existence  be 
fore,  but  as  he  came  to  the  vicinity  of  the  address, 
he  remembered  the  allusion  to  this  temple.  He 
looked  about  the  street  up  and  down  as  if  expecting 
to  see  a  building  whose  architecture  was  imposing 
or  suggestive  of  a  temple.  None  was  in  sight.  He 
walked  on  a  little  further  and  came  to  the  address 
he  sought. 

He  sounded  the  knocker  and  was  ushered  in  by  a 
low-bowing  servant.  The  house  was  of  large  di 
mensions.  Its  exterior  was  not  imposing,  being 
only  about  the  ordinary,  but  the  interior  struck  him 
differently.  The  reception  room  into  which  he  was 
invited  was  richly  furnished.  Rich  paintings  and 
draperies  ornamented  the  walls.  The  antique  fur 
niture  was  impressive.  The  Persian  rugs  were  mar- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          135 

velous  in  design  and  pattern.  He  noticed  these 
things  quickly,  and  was  no  sooner  seated  than  a 
voice  he  recognized  said  softly  behind  him : 

"  So  you  deigned  to  call  on  me,  did  you  ?  I  be 
gan  to  think  you  had  forgotten." 

Durand  turned  and  looked  up  at  the  woman.  Her 
hair  was  arranged  in  a  most  rakish  fashion.  Knots 
and  ripples  of  the  beautiful  yellow  hair  vied  with 
one  another  in  fantastic  arrangement.  Jewels 
placed  here  and  there  enhanced  the  brilliancy  of  both 
hair  and  jewels.  Durand  noticed  the  freshness  of 
her  complexion,  the  skin  with  its  fresh  brilliancy, 
the  large  nose  that  added  strength  to  the  face.  Be 
fore  he  spoke,  he  noted  these  things,  even  to  the 
brocaded  loose  flowing  house  gown  she  wore. 
While  he  looked  upon  her,  her  small  slippered  foot 
protruding  from  under  the  folds  of  the  gown 
stamped  the  floor  twice  as  if  she  would  that  he 
speak. 

Finally  he  said,  "Forget  you,  Mademoiselle? 
No,  never.  Besides  I  do  not  desire  to." 

"  Thanks,"  she  said,  "  a  compliment  in  that  I 
suppose?  " 

"  True,  a  compliment  well  deserved." 

"  Be  seated ;  let  us  talk." 

"  Yes,  let  us  talk,  but  I  would  be  contented  to 
sit  and  look  upon  you,  even  if  you  forbid  me 
to  speak." 


136          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Again  she  smiled  and  bowed.  "  Aye,  you  men 
are  always  complimentary." 

"  But  I  mean  it.  I  am  sorry  I  disappointed  you 
in  not  coming  sooner." 

"  I  was  afraid  some  other  woman  had  consumed 
your  time." 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  there  is  no  other  she.  At  least 
not  now." 

"  I  am  glad,"  she  said  simply. 

"And  I,"  he  added. 

"  Aren't  we  getting  on  well  ?  When  I  knew 
you  before,  we  never  exchanged  as  many  words  out 
side  of  our  business  details  as  we  did  the  other 
night." 

"  Why  not,"  he  asked,  "  why  not  be  acquainted 
now?  Then  I  was  engrossed  with  other  affairs. 
Now  I  have  time  to  be  entertaining.  Besides  I  have 
traveled  much,  and  having  seen  the  world,  I  care 
more  for  society  than  I  did  " 

'  You  have  changed  indeed.  Then  you  were 
cold,  oh,  so  cold."  She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  was,  but  I  have  seen  more  of 
the  world  and  am  different  I  tell  you." 

"  Let  us  change  the  subject.  The  other  night  I 
did  not  ask  you  of  yourself.  Tell  me,  how  have 
you  fared  ?  " 

"Well,"    said   Durand.     "If   I   have  not   fared 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          137 

well,  it  is  my  own  fault.  I  could  afford  to  fare 
well,  you  know." 

She  looked  at  him  closely  as  she  thought,  "  He 
has  lost  the  discretion  that  was  such  a  factor  in 
his  make-up." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  you  have  money  enough  I 
dare  say." 

"  And  with  it  I  have  seen  things  and  enjoyed 
life." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  she  said. 

He  then  threw  off  his  reserve  and  told  her  ol 
travels,  practically  around  the  world;  spoke  of  this 
thing  and  that  thing  he  had  seen,  and  being  a  good 
narrator  it  was  not  uninteresting  to  her.  Finally 
his  story  ended —  "  Ten  years  ago  I  came  here.  I 
am  here  yet.  There  is  no  other  place  like  Paris. 
Here  I  will  stay  forever,"  he  finished. 

"  Well  said,  Mr.  Durand,  well  said.  This  is  the 
Mecca  of  the  Bohemian  world  as  well  as  the  Mecca 
for  all  other  classes.  You  and  I  are  Bohemian 
and  will  so  remain.  Strange  that  you  and  I  have 
wandered  the  streets  of  the  same  city  for  ten  years 
without  our  pathways  crossing." 

"  Fate  may  have  decreed  otherwise,"  he  said, 
"  Fate  or  the  Devil." 

She  again  made  that  peculiar  motion  with  her 
hand,  the  outline  of  the  barbed  tail. 


138          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Well,"  she  added,  "  Fate  cruel  once,  is  kind 
, again,  I  am  sure.  You  are  glad  to  see  me?  " 

"  Indeed  I  am." 

Her  face  glowed. 

"But  of  yourself?"  he  asked.  "You  have  told 
me  little." 

"  There  is  little  to  tell.  Soon  after  we  parted 
in  America  I  came  here.  For  a  time  I  was  in  the 
ballet  at  La  Grande  Theatre.  Then  I  met  M.  Divan, 
and  then  I  came  here.  This  is  his  house." 

"  M.  Divan,"  he  asked,  "  not  Commissionaire  of 
Bank?" 

"  The  same." 

"  Lucky  woman,"  he  said. 

She  continued.  "  This  is  his  house.  I  am  his 
mistress.  He  and  I  are  inseparable." 

"  But  does  he  not  object  to  your  receiving  vis 
itors?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  how  will  he  know  ?  I  won't  tell 
him.  The  servants  do  not  talk.  Sometimes  I  go 
out  and  walk  the  street  of  an  evening,  that  is,  when 
he  is  out  for  the  evening,  as  he  ofttimes  is,  as  I  did 
when  I  saw  you.  But  he  never  knows.  Ah,  no,  he 
never  knows.  If  he  did, — Oh  my!  he  is  so  jealous, 
so  jealous." 

"But  you  invited  me  here?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  shall  tell  him  of  you  later,  but  not 
of  your  visit.  He  knows  I  was  in  America.  We 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          139 

can  meet  by  accident  you  know.  After  that  I  will 
tell  him  of  you." 

"  Is  he  a  Devil  follower  too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  made  me  one.  He  is  surely  one 
deep  dyed.  He  is  the  Zoroaster  of  our  cult. 

"The  what?" 

"  The  Zoroaster.  You  do  not  understand.  The 
officers  are  all  named  after  some  devil  or  noted 
figure  in  mystic  ceremonies.  These  names  are  for 
some  noted  patron  devil,  some  noted  figure  of 
mystic  ceremonies  of  the  middle  ages  which  our 
art  and  tradition  says  existed  when  the  world  was 
young  and  the  Devil  ruled  universally.  Zoroaster 
was  a  fire-worshipper." 

"  Nonsense,"  he  ejaculated,  "  no  facts  in  any  of 
this." 

She  smiled  on  him.  "  So,  M.  Divan  is  the 
Zoroaster,  in  imitation  of  one  who  it  is  said,  was 
the  Devil's  before  he  was  born,  and  sprang  into  the 
world  full  grown  that  he  might  defend  his  mother." 

"  I  am  interested,"  he  said,  "  and  in  this  cult 
you  are  Lillith.  Why  not  Hebe  or  Minerva." 

She  laughed.  "  Lillith  was  of  our  faith  and  I 
am  she  personified." 

"  Were  not  Lillith  and  Zoroaster,  as  you  called 
him,  of  the  flesh?" 

"  Ah,  no,  not  now,  they  are  Spirit  devils  from 
the  world  below." 


142          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

He  took  it,  and  bending  low  kissed  her  hand. 
She  did  not  object. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said,  and  withdrew.  As  he 
walked  out  he  noticed  that  the  perfume  of  her  hand 
had  scented  his  lips. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          143 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  Cafe  De  Noir  was  ablaze  with  light  that, 
scintillating  from  the  thousand  gems  of  its  patrons, 
transformed  it  to  a  scene  of  resplendent  beauty. 
From  without  one  beheld,  beside  its  most  orna 
mental  furnishings  of  cut  glass,  silver,  onyx  and 
spotless  linen,  beautiful  women  who  were  the  travel 
ing  exemplification  of  the  modiste's  sincere,  exquisite 
workmanship.  Shapely  shoulders  and  throats  were 
visible  above  the  low  corsage,  frills  and  creations  of 
knots  and  flounces  below.  The  men  in  evening 
dress  paid  compliments  to  their  feminine  friends 
as  dexterously  as  only  a  Frenchman  can  handle  such 
heroics.  In  America  or  England  the  matter  of 
dispensing  complimentary  sayings  is  handled  care 
fully  lest  offence  might  follow.  In  Paris  it  is  dif 
ferent.  Femininity  expect  it;  nay,  they  exact  it. 

It  was  near  the  hour  of  midnight.  The  theatres 
were  discharging  their  audiences.  Society  would 
now  dine.  The  Cafe  De  Noir  was  fast  filling. 
People  filed  in  rapidly,  taking  the  remaining  seats, 
few  in  number,  for  this  fashionable  place  was  never 
short  of  patrons.  Many  of  the  late  comers  looked 


i44          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

disappointed  as  they  saw  the  tables  filled  and  were 
told  they  could  not  be  accommodated.  Plenty  of 
these  belated  diners  looked  and  pointed  their  fingers 
appealingly  at  an  empty,  spacious  table,  to  be  told 
by  the  manager  that  it  was  reserved.  Other  guests 
already  present  noted  this,  and  found  themselves 
speculating  as  to  who  the  distinguished  party  was 
that  would  dine  there. 

Amid  the  tinkling  of  silver,  the  chatter  of  French, 
an  invisible  orchestra,  hidden  in  a  balcony  behind 
portieres  at  the  side,  began  playing  lively  airs.  The 
clatter  of  dishes  and  tones  was  hushed  by  the  pre 
dominating  orchestral  tones.  Finding  themselves 
unheard  the  diners  temporarily  hushed  their  voices, 
waiting  for  a  lull  in  the  music. 

But  before  the  resumption  of  conversation  had 
taken  place,  near  the  main  entrance  a  slight  commo 
tion  caused  the  eyes  of  all  to  turn  in  that  direction. 

A  party  of  four  entered,  two  women  and  two 
men.  First  came  a  medium  sized,  elegantly  gowned 
woman  in  a  creation  of  old  gold  and  white  lace. 
She  needs  no  introduction.  It  was  Mile.  Sara  Le 
Blanc;  now  Mile.  Lillith  by  reason  of  a  second 
christening.  She  never  looked  more  fair  and  fresh. 
Truly  this  woman  fifteen  years  before  must  have 
been  at  least  thirty.  To-day  she  looked  no  older 
than  at  that  time.  Her  alert  walk,  her  young  man 
ner  conveyed,  to  those  who  had  known  her  long,  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          145 

impression  that  she  possessed  the  secret  of  perpet 
ual  youth. 

Following  her  was  a  man  of  great  height  and 
fine  figure.  His  handsome  face  was  large  and  of 
noble  features,  impressing  one  with  his  importance 
and  mental  weight.  His  evening  clothes  set  off 
his  figure  well.  He  may  have  been  fifty,  but  save 
for  a  few  gray  hairs  in  the  black  locks  and  pointed 
beard  you  would  not  have  guessed  him  so  old.  In 
spite  of  his  noble  features  and  his  grand  mien  there 
was  that  about  him  which  was  not  altogether  reas 
suring.  A  certain  self-importance  that  great  men 
avoid  aroused  one's  suspicions,  while  on  close  inspec 
tion  the  mouth  revealed  cruelty.  Those  who  have 
tasted  the  forbidden  things  of  life  have  this  look. 
Yet  his  apparel  was  genteel  and  rich.  Such  was 
M.  Divan,  or  as  Mile.  Sara  introduced  him  by  his 
Satanic  name,  Zoroaster. 

The  pair  following  and  who  completed  the  party, 
were  an  oddly  assorted  couple.  A  large,  coarse 
woman,  whose  flabby  shaking  body  danced  as  she 
walked,  came  first.  She  was  truly  a  possessor  of 
avoirdupois,  if  her  face  revealed  but  little  character. 
She  looked  mammoth  to  the  point  of  vulgarity. 
Her  face,  her  mouth,  large  and  thick  lips,  her  heavy, 
besotted  eyes  spoke  plainly  of  excesses  and  much 
wine.  Her  clothes  were  expensive,  yet  ill  fitting. 
Her  dark  hair,  slightly  gray,  was  really  her  one 
10 


146          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

point  of  beauty.  The  eyes,  heavy-lidded  and  red, 
were  in  harmony  with  the  rest  of  her  make-up,  save 
the  hair.  Her  male  escort  was  a  small,  light  man 
of  unpleasant  aspect.  His  scant  light  hair  was  un 
tidy  and  bristled  about  his  head.  His  full  beard 
was,  in  wiriness,  twin  brother  to  the  hair.  He  had 
an  alert  manner,  a  keen  eye,  a  savage,  acutely  pointed 
nose.  His  whole  natural  facial  equipment  would 
invite  mistrust  of  his  motives,  veracity  and  sin 
cerity. 

The  party  made  their  way  to  the  one  vacant 
table  and  under  the  surveillance  of  many  eyes  were 
seated  by  the  urbane  waiter.  Their  orders  were 
quickly  given,  and  they  then  turned  their  attention 
to  gazing  about  the  room.  The  eyes  of  the  whole 
party  swept  the  entire  cafe,  nodding  here  and  there 
to  people  whom  each  knew,  a  smile  sent  to  one,  a 
little  half  hand  wave  to  another. 

The  observation  of  all  except  Mile.  Sara  had 
been  casual  as  if  they  expected  to  view  none  in  par 
ticular  and  were  pleased  to  see  all,  or  that  they 
were  merely  being  courteous  to  those  about  them. 
Mile.  Sara,  however,  swept  the  room  with  any 
thing  but  a  casual  glance.  Her  gaze  carried  with  it 
both  interest  and  desire,  interest  that  it  could  not 
disguise  and  desire  that  was  pronounced. 

She  had  invited  Durand  to  be  there  that  she 
might  by  accident  spy  him,  and  after  planning  out 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          147 

the  way  it  would  be  done,  she  hoped  he  had  not 
disappointed  her. 

M.  Divan  and  Mile.  Sara  sat  facing  the  front 
of  the  place,  their  seats  from  the  vantage  point  of 
observation  were  the  best.  Mile.  Sara  had  swept 
into  her  seat  by  reason  of  quick  discernment  of  the 
advantage  it  offered  and  M.  Divan  had  followed. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  scrutinizing  of  the  room, 
a  frown  wrinkled  that  forehead  of  pink  and  white. 
She  lowered  her  head  and  flushed  slightly  in  her 
disappointment.  A  moment  later  she  again  cast  her 
eyes  to  the  circle  about  her.  This  time  she  was 
successful  in  seeing  whom  she  sought.  Seated  at 
an  individual  table,  only  a  short  space  from  them 
was  Durand.  He  sat  looking  at  her  even  as  she 
looked  at  him.  The  frown  on  her  face  was  effaced 
by  a  slight  smile,  but  other  than  this  she  gave  him 
no  evidence  that  she  saw  him. 

She  turned  to  M.  Divan.  "  Do  you  see  this 
gentleman  directly  in  front,  the  one  dining  alone?  " 

"Yes.     Why?"  as  he  looked  at  her  closely. 

"  Nothing,  only  I  am  sure  I  know  him." 

Divan  was  always  jealous  of  his  mistress  and  he 
turned  and  looked  into  her  face.  Unperturbed,  she 
glanced  back  at  him. 

"  You  knew  him,"  he  asked,  "  when  and  where?  " 

"  In  America." 

"Another  beastly  American,  eh?" 


148          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  No,  he  is  a  gentleman.  I  shall  look  at  him 
again  and  if  it  is  Mr.  Herbert  Durand  of  New 
York,  as  I  suspect,  I  will  nod  at  him." 

"  Why  should  you  want  to  know  him  now  ?  "  he 
asked. 

The  other  couple  looked  on  and  raised  their  eye 
brows  and  smiled  at  one  another.  These  petty 
jealousies  of  M.  Divan  evidently  were  not  new, 
nor  was  it  new  that  Mile.  Sara  sometimes  gave 
him  reason  for  his  jealousy. 

To  this  last  she  made  no  reply,  but  kept  her  eyes 
on  the  supposed  stranger.  Divan  watched  her 
closely;  saw  the  man  she  had  spoken  of  as  Durand 
look  towards  her,  saw  them  both  smile  and  bow, 
with  the  result  that  Durand  arose  and  made  his  way 
to  them. 

Since  Durand  had  left  New  York  fifteen  years  be 
fore,  as  we  have  said,  he  had  wandered  throughout 
the  world  alone.  You  might  ask,  "did  he  not  have 
a  conscience  that  reminded  him  of  the  past  and  those 
he  had  wronged  ?  "  No,  he  did  not.  Believing  the 
ends  justified  the  means,  that  his  own  personal 
wants  and  desires  and  comforts  were  of  greater 
consequence  than  wealth  could  be  to  a  mere  child, 
he  thought  of  her  seldom,  and  then  only  in  wonder 
ment  as  to  her  condition  and  whereabouts. 

He  had  lived  modestly  since  the  time  he  had 
started  out  to  see  the  world.  His  manner  of  living 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          149 

could  not  and  did  not  nearly  spend  the  income  from 
the  fortune.  His  habits  had  undergone  little  change 
during  these  years  of  opulence.  In  some  ways  he 
may  have  been  more  careless  of  his  expenditures, 
but  on  the  whole,  for  one  with  means  he  was  frugal. 
While  never  a  woman  hater,  yet  he  had  never  con 
sidered  any  woman  in  the  light  of  love. 

Since  his  stay  in  Paris,  he  had  one  or  two  enam 
ored  experiences,  but  they  were  transient.  The 
thought  of  a  wife  with  a  home  to  preside  over  was 
foreign  to  him  before,  yet  after  seeing  the  way 
M.  Divan  had  installed  Mademoiselle  Sara  he  won 
dered  if  it  were  not  a  proper  and  good  thing  to  do. 
Before  he  had  not  noticed  the  charms  of  Mile.  Sara. 
Now  he  did,  and  dwelt  on  them  in  his  own  thoughts. 
He  recalled  how  anxious  she  seemed  that  they  meet 
again,  and  how  she  had  allowed  him  to  caress  and 
kiss  her  hand  in  parting.  For  once  in  his  life  he 
was  dazzled  by  a  female  form.  The  manner  of  her 
existence,  Bohemian  though  it  was,  pleased  him. 
He  thought  of  this  beautiful  woman  presiding  in 
her  beautiful  home,  of  the  dining  out,  of  her  fine 
raiment  and  jewels.  He  had  lived  within  himself 
and  it  was  now  a  new  gaze  upon  things  ephemeral 
and  dazzling,  and  he  was  dazed.  Though  his  in 
sight  into  these  things  was  slight,  yet  in  them  he  saw 
possibilities,  and  he  longed  to  be  and  feel  as  Mile. 
Sara  was  and  felt  in  the  circle  in  which  she  moved. 


150          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

In  his  wanderings  he  had  met  with  few  friends, 
and  he  welcomed  the  opportunities  which  his  ac 
quaintance  with  her  would  bring.  To  the  Devil 
Worshippers  he  had  given  little  thought.  He  was 
never  before  aware  of  their  existence.  He  was 
not  surprised  that,  among  the  increasing  sects  that 
the  age  produced  who  worship  a  deity  of  their  own 
understanding  and  manufacture,  there  should  be 
some  so  sacrilegious  as  to  worship  the  one  who, 
since  his  beguilement  of  the  mother  parent  of  the 
race,  had  stood  as  a  symbol  for  evil.  For  years 
he  had  been  in  Paris  without  making  any  acquaint 
ances,  but  he  did  not  consider  himself  an  outcast, 
though  he  had  not  thought  nor  desired  to  return 
to  the  land  of  his  birth.  Nor  was  he  discontented 
to  any  extent.  While  of  late  years  he  had  felt  a 
longing  for  congenial  acquaintances,  yet  this  desire 
had,  save  for  the  two  affairs  with  women,  led  him 
into  no  ways  of  extravagance  or  extensive  evil. 
When  the  opportunity  offered  by  his  acquaintance 
with  Mile.  Sara  came  up,  he  eagerly  seized  upon 
it  as  a  means  to  the  end  he  longed  for.  He  cared 
nothing  as  to  whom  she  might  worship. 

To  him  now  she  was  a  commandatory  figure. 
He  never  for  a  moment  doubted  that  she  was  rep 
resentative  of  the  proper  classes  in  Paris.  His 
conception  of  morality  was  not  alone  responsible 
for  this,  although  the  conception  was  warped  and 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          151 

of  a  low  type,  but  his  conception  of  the  standards 
of  the  city's  society  was  responsible.  Besides  he 
had  developed  a  liking  for  her  that  was  new,  and 
he  thought  well  of  it.  This  liking  for  her  con 
veyed  to  him  nothing  in  the  nature  of  love.  Yet 
had  she  had  the  same  feeling  he  would  have  posed  as 
her  lover. 

He  was  eager  for  the  night  following  his  visit, 
the  night  he  would  meet  her  lover  and  friends, 
meet  them  and  perhaps  attach  himself  to  a  society 
that  he  knew  must  be  in  keeping  with  their  lives  and 
its  name,  with  the  end  in  view  of  being  near  her. 

He  had  come  to  the  Cafe  De  Noir  early,  preceding 
the  party  mentioned  by  a  half  hour,  omitting  the 
theatre  that  he  might  not  be  behind  time.  He  saw 
Sara  glance  about  in  quest  of  him.  He  lost  no  time 
in  answering  her  bow  and  made  his  way  to  the 
table.  Mile.  Sara  arose  and  greeted  him. 

"  A  great  pleasure.  A  great  pleasure,  I  am 
most  certain,"  she  said.  "  I  am  delighted  to  meet 
you." 

"  Yes,"  he  returned,  "  and  I  to  meet  you  again 
after  so  long,  yet  we  recognized  each  other  at 
once." 

"Do  you  speak  French?"  she  asked.  "If  so,  I 
will  introduce  you  to  my  friends  who  do  not  speak 
English." 


152          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  My  French  is  not  so  good,"  he  said,  "  yet 
in  ten  years  I  have  tried  to  acquire  the  language." 

Then  she  introduced  him  to  her  friends  the  La 
Montas.  She  continued,  "  and  M.  Divan,  my  lord 
and  liege," — this  unblushingly. 

The  gentlemen  shook  hands  and  murmured  proper 
greetings. 

"  You  must  dine  with  us,"  said  Sara.  "  You  have 
not  been  served  as  yet.  We  will  have  your  chair 
transferred  here." 

Throughout  the  dinner,  Mile.  Sara  kept  up  such  a 
merry  chatter  of  French  that  Divan  himself,  who 
had  frowned  on  Durand  at  first,  finally  lost  his 
moroseness  and  joined  in  the  convivialities.  Mile. 
Sara  refrained  from  mentioning  any  of  the  par 
ticulars  of  the  time  she  had  known  Durand  be 
fore,  excepting  to  state  that  he  was  a  theatrical 
manager,  and  Durand  acquiesced  in  this.  Not  that 
he  cared  to  keep  the  reason  of  their  first  acquaint 
ance  a  secret,  but  she  had  this  object  in  view,  and 
why  should  he  not  assist  her. 

He  had  wondered  how  the  adroit  Sara  would 
mention  him  as  a  prospective  member  of  the  order 
of  Satan.  He  wondered  if  these  La  Montas  were 
not  of  the  order.  He  resolved  to  find  out.  Pur 
posely  he  would  profane  the  one  they  called  deity. 
His  glass  tipped  slightly  as  he  raised  it  to  his  lips; 
the  red  wine  flowed  upon  the  cloth.  All  supposed 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          153 

it  to  be  accidental  save  himself.  "  Diable !  "  he  said. 
The  quartette  made  the  barbed  tail  sign  in  unison. 
They  are  all  the  same,  he  thought  to  himself,  and 
they  do  not  care  who  knows  it. 

The  conversation  lagged  for  a  short  time  after 
this.  Mile.  Sara  came  into  the  breach. 

"  You  are  in  Paris  to  stay?  " 

"  Yes.  In  fact  I  know  not  when  I  go  away.  I 
shall  go  as  soon  as  a  so  far  fruitless  search  is  com 
pleted." 

"Yes?"  she  said  inquiringly. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued  boldly,  "  as  a  young  man  I 
took  great  interest  in  certain  things  that,  though 
veiled  to  me,  yet  held  out  a  most  subtle  fascination, 
a  fascination  that  has  grown  upon  me.  Paris,  I  was 
told  and  yet  believe,  is  the  center  of  this  sect,  yet  so 
far  all  clue  to  the  identity  of  what  I  seek  has  es 
caped  me." 

The  quartet  seeing  something  mysterious  in  his 
suggestion  leaned  forward  eagerly  and  caught  the 
words  as  they  fell  from  the  lips  of  this  master  con 
jurer  of  deceptive  syllables. 

Noticing  the  interest  his  words  created,  he  con 
tinued.  "  Things  mysterious  held  for  me  always 
a  charm.  Theosophy,  Egyptology  and  mesmeric 
effects  I  court ;  yet  I  seek  things  even  more  mys 
terious,  more  daring." 


154         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

As  if  by  prearrangement  he  stopped  and  looked 
at  Mile.  Sara. 

Her  lips  parted  in  answer  to  his  look,  and  for  a 
brief  interval  there  was  silence.  Then  she  inquired, 
"What  is  it  that  so  interests  you,  M.  Durand? 
One  would  think  some  strange  creature  had  you  in 
its  power, — some  woman  in  fact." 

"  No,"  he  said.    "  It  is  not  a  woman  I  seek." 

"  Pray  tell  then.  Something  more  interesting 
than  a  woman?  What  can  it  be?  " 

"  I  may  shock  you  all,"  he  declared,  "  yet  that 
which  I  seek  is  in  line  with  my  belief  and  my  life. 
I  seek  those  who  are  called  Devil  Worshippers." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          155 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE  balance  of  the  dinner  passed  by  agreeably 
to  Durand  and  Sara.  The  quartet  had  been  sur 
prised,  excepting  Mile.  Sara,  at  the  announcement 
by  Durand  of  the  things  of  which  he  was  in  quest. 

She  had  helped  matters  along  by  requesting  in  a 
whisper  to  Divan  to  talk  with  Durand  about  his 
opinions  and  aspirations  regarding  the  Satanites. 
Divan  had  found  that  Durand  knew  something  of 
their  wrays,  and  seeing  in  him  a  prospective  sup 
porter  in  precept  and  by  financial  aid  to  the  order, 
had  disclosed  to  him  the  fact  that  his  Mecca  had 
been  reached,  and  told  him  that  those  before  him 
were  in  truth  Devil  Worshippers.  Divan  grew 
more  interested.  The  antipathy  he  had  felt  a  short 
time  before,  when  he  looked  upon  Durand  as  a 
previous  lover  of  Mile.  Sara  or  a  prospective  rival 
of  his,  wras  at  once  dispelled. 

A  conference  of  the  four  was  held,  of  which 
Dnrand  was  a  witness,  and  in  the  end  he  was  told 
that  his  presence  as  a  member  would  be  highly 
pleasing  to  all  concerned,  but  certain  formalities 


156         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

must  first  be  observed  before  he  might  join.  Du- 
rand  replied  that  his  desire  to  join  was  great,  yet  he 
could  and  would  of  course  wait  for  the  observances 
of  the  society's  red  tape. 

Mile.  Sara  was  anxious  to  court  the  society  of 
her  friend  and  for  this  reason,  while  she  was  per 
haps  enjoying  life,  yet  at  times  she  grew  tired  of 
her  official  duties  as  high  priestess.  The  formalities 
alone  were  irksome  and  furnished  her  little  enjoy 
ment.  M.  Divan  besides  was  exacting  and  jealous. 
At  times  she  longed  for  her  former  freedom  and 
even  thought  that  this  freedom  was  worth  more 
perhaps  than  was  her  home  and  those  things  dear 
to  her  heart,  her  rich  clothes  and  many  jewels. 

In  the  coming  of  Durand  she  had  experienced  a 
new  desire.  She  thought  him  to  be  one  who  would 
expect  less  from  her  than  did  M.  Divan,  and  she 
courted  his  favor  and  presence,  hoping  that  his 
wealth  and  more  congenial  presence  some  day  might 
be  hers  to  enjoy.  She  had  even  flattered  herself 
that  he  thought  of  this  matter  much  the  same  as 
she.  Now  she  looked  forward  to  a  time  when  she 
should  cast  aside  the  astute  and  boorish  Divan  and 
bask  in  the  perpetual  good  will  and  graces  of  a 
lover  who  would  be  less  jealous  and  more  lavish. 
As  she  thought  of  Divan's  methods  towards  her, 
his  watchfulness  lest  other  men  might  see  and  ad 
mire  her,  of  her  worriment  lest  he  might  discover 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          157 

her  plan  of  going  out  in  the  evening  when  business 
detained  or  attracted  him  away  from  her,  her  heart 
grew  cold,  especially  as  she  measured  him  against 
Durand.  She  had  hints  of  misgiving  as  to  Durand's 
reception  when  Divan  and  the  others  should  meet 
him,  and  had  been  very  much  astonished  when  he 
had  boldly  declared  his  quest  for  the  Devil  Wor 
shippers.  She  had  abetted  every  effort  made  in 
the  preliminaries  incidental  to  his  affiliation. 

His  name  was,  of  course,  proposed  and  balloted 
upon.  As  a  former  friend  she  had  stood  as  sponsor 
as  to  his  fitness.  She  had  prior  to  this  time  taken 
it  upon  herself,  unbeknown  to  M.  Divan  of  course, 
to  do  a  little  canvassing  in  Durand's  favor,  not 
openly  but  a  word  here  and  there  among  the  mem 
bers  and  had  had  the  desired  effect, — his  name  had 
gone  through  and  without  opposition  and  he  was 
duly  elected.  \Vith  a  casualness  that  was  subtle  she 
had  mentioned  the  fact  of  his  great  wealth.  That 
alone  was  assurance  that  the  final  vote  would  be 
favorable.  The  society  was  in  far  from  straitened 
circumstances,  yet  they  seldom  passed  by  an  oppor 
tunity  of  acquiring  members  who  possessed  money. 

M.  Divan  had  not  invited  Durand  to  call,  nor  did 
Durand  think  strange  of  that.  He  had  noticed 
the  distrust  with  which  Divan  first  looked  upon 
him,  and  knew  of  the  jealousy  that  he  could  not 
disguise.  Besides,  he  thought,  Divan  may  not 


158         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

have  cared  to  invite  others  to  his  home,  they  know 
ing  of  the  relations  "that  existed  there. 

This,  however,  did  not  prevent  his  calling  upon 
Sara  as  he  had  done  twice  in  the  week  following 
the  dinner  at  the  Cafe  De  Noir.  At  these  times  he 
had  been  most  cordially  received.  Mile.  Sara  had 
allowed  him  to  sit  and  hold  her  hand  as  he  told 
her  of  his  wanderings  here  and  there.  He  was  a 
master  entertainer  when  he  chose,  yet  one  who 
had  had  little  opportunity  to  develop  this  ability. 

The  first  time  he  had  called  objectively  to  return 
the  ritual  of  the  Satanists  that  she  had  loaned 
him,  a  ritual  that  he  had  assiduously  read  and 
stored  many  of  its  facts  away  in  his  brain  and 
used  them  successfully  when  he  was  trying  to 
establish  himself  in  the  eyes  of  the  quartet. 

Mile.  Sara  had  given  him  many  points  as  to  the 
methods  employed  by  them  in  their  worship  and 
initiation.  She  had  told  him  none  knew,  except  the 
council  of  demons,  just  when  he  was  to  be  initiated, 
but  he  would  be  notified  one  day  beforehand.  On 
the  second  visit,  the  mademoiselle  had  inquired  why 
his  desire  to  join.  He  had  promptly  replied,  "  To 
be  with  you."  She  had  smiled  and  assured  him  that 
this  feeling  was  mutual.  This  exchange  of  assur 
ances  had,  to  both,  seemed  satisfying,  and  what 
they  had  desired. 

As  they  looked  from  the  window  and  toward  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          159 

Temple  of  Satan,  he  had  inquired  about  the  size  of 
its  interior  as  only  the  front  was  visible,  and  was 
told  that  it  consisted  of  a  grand  and  very  large 
drawing-room  opening  off  the  main  entrance,  back 
of  w'hich  was  the  Temple  of  Hades,  in  which  the 
society  performed  its  rites  and  initiated  its  novi 
tiates.  Then  a  banqueting  hall  back  of  this  with 
ante-rooms  completed  the  scheme.  Durand  saw 
from  the  exterior  that  the  house  was  large  and 
wondered  not  that  it  contained  so  much  room. 

"  But,"  added  the  Mademoiselle,  "  you  will  soon 
explore  it  and  then  you  will  know  as  much  about  it 
and  its  mysteries  as  I." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  but  I  care  not  as  much  about 
the  temple  or  its  secrets  as  about  you." 

'  You  may  come  to  see  me  often,"  she  said  with 
a  fascinating  smile. 


160          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  V. 

DURAND,  in  a  day  or  so,  received  the  notice  lie 
looked  for — to  present  himself  at  the  temple.  On 
the  night  named  he  did  so,  and  after  being  duly 
scrutinized  and  questioned  at  the  door,  lest  unbe 
lievers  or  enemies  prompted  by  curiosity  gain  ad 
mittance,  he  was  allowed  to  enter. 

The  reception  room  of  the  temple  was  furnished 
as  any  large  room  of  its  like  might  be  furnished.  A 
polished  floor,  with  rugs  under  foot  and  chairs 
about  the  room,  with  tables  and  pictures  completed 
its  appointments.  Durand  here  was  introduced  to 
many  of  the  four  score  of  people  present, — all  well 
dressed  and  seemingly  representative.  Those  he 
met  were  called  by  their  Christian  names,  yet 
Divan,  who  at  Mile.  Sara's  instigation  was  doing 
the  introducing,  took  some  pains  that  the  names 
by  which  the  society  knew  them,  were  affixed  and 
distinctly  pronounced.  Durand  knew  them  to  be 
the  officers  of  the  society.  He  heard  affixed  to 
French  names  such  titles  as  Adreth,  Pluto,  Vulcan, 
Zeus  and  others.  "  Rechristening  of  patron  imps  " 
was  his  mental  comment.  M.  La  Monta,  whom  he 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          161 

had  met  before,  he  now  learned  was  the  presiding 
officer  and  termed  Beelzebub.  He  commented  to 
himself,  "  Well  he  looks  it." 

Mile.  Sara  or  Lillith  was  there  of  course,  look 
ing  resplendent  in  a  beautiful  gown  of  blue  and 
gold.  From  the  ritual  he  had  learned  that  Lillith 
was  she  who  was  to  become  the  Devil's  bride, 
Moving  about  she  appeared  to  be  the  life  and  the 
wit  of  the  Assembly.  Durand  asked  himself,  "  Can 
it  be  that  this  woman  can  be  so  welcome  here."  Al 
though  he  admired  her,  he  thought  strange  her 
popularity.  He  was  not  a  moral  philosopher,  yet 
he  could  not  refrain  from  the  thought,  "  Oh,  Paris, 
the  rumors  concerning  'your  moral  standards  have 
not  been  exaggerated !  " 

The  brief  time  in  the  reception  room  was  merely 
formal  and  for  introduction.  The  few  who  had 
been  saluted  with  diabolical  titles  soon  withdrew 
to  prepare  the  further  proceedings,  and  the  balance 
of  the  party  shortly  after  also  withdrew  through 
the  same  door,  that  before  Durand  had  thought  to 
be  a  mere  panel  in  the  decorations.  But  he  saw  it 
opened  to  a  touch  administered  in  the  right  spot, 
and  as  the  company  filed  through  it  he  was  able 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  what  was  concealed  behind  its 
portals.  A  flickering  light  that  waxed  bright  and 
waned  alternately,  assisted  him  in  his  view.  He 
beheld  one  visible  corner  that  contained  a  few  paint- 
1 1 


1 62          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

ings  on  the  wall  above,  and  a  leather-covered  settee. 
This  v/as  all  he  saw. 

All  had  passed  through  the  door,  leaving  him 
alone,  with  the  exception  of  one  man,  whom  he 
took  to  be  his  attendant  for  the  further  ceremonies. 
A  delay  of  a  half  hour  followed,  and  Durand  rightly 
supposed  that  those  inside  were  preparing  the  af 
fairs  of  the  forthcoming  initiation. 

Finally  a  robe  was  cast  about  his  shoulders  by 
his  attendant,  a  signal  that  his  part  in  the  cere 
monies  would  commence.  Whatever  may  have 
been  the  modus  operandi  of  the  founders  of  the 
order  as  to  procedure  in  initiation  cannot  be  said, 
for  its  founder's  place  in  history  is  so  far  back  as 
to  give  room  for  much  uncertainty,  but  these 
modern  proclaimers  of  the  ascendency  of  the  Devil 
had  modernized  it,  and  its  proceedings  were  not 
entirely  unlike  many  initiatory  services  of  contem 
porary  orders,  excepting  the  hellish  symbols  and 
Satanic  references. 

Durand  heard  the  scampering  of  many  feet  and 
a  blood-curdling  noise  like  unto  wails  from  the 
lost  in  torment  coming  from  the  inside,  and  imme 
diately  his  attendant  made  a  similar  noise.  At  this 
commencement  of  the  proceedings,  it  can  be  truly 
said  that  Durand  v/as  more  amused  than  frightened, 
as  he  held  his  robe  from  the  floor  lest  he  should 
trip,  and  followed  the  other  inside. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          163 

The  door  closed  quickly  behind  him  and  a  voice 
coming  from  whence,  by  reason  of  the  dim  light 
he  could  not  discern,  in  a  loud  tone  belched  forth 
the  words  that  Dante's  imagination  pictured  as 
traced  over  the  gateway  of  Hades,  "  All  hope 
abandon  ye  who  enter  here." 

Durand  was  not  terror-stricken,  yet  he  felt  far 
from  comfortable.  These  words  he  had  read  in 
his  youth.  Then  they  had  impressed  him  as  timely, 
and  as  appropriate  and  awful.  Now,  enhanced  as 
they  sounded  amid  the  surroundings  and  the  dim 
light  that  only  outlined  things,  he  felt  them 
ominous.  He  turned  and  looked  for  his  guide  and 
sponsor.  He  had  disappeared,  and  in  his  place  he 
beheld  a  much  larger  figure.  This  figure  moved  and 
momentarily  the  light  grew  bright  a  bit  and  he  saw 
it  outlined,  a  large  human  form,  perhaps  only 
human  as  to  shape,  ho\vever.  Its  head  was  adorned 
with  horns,  its  body  was  bedecked  with  transparent 
spangles  that  reflected  the  little  light  of  the  room, 
and  in  his  hand  was  actually  held  the  proverbial 
spear.  As  it  moved  a  bit  there  was  a  clanking 
noise,  and  a  voice  sounded  from  afar  off  again, 
"  All  hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here,"  and  the 
figure  beside  Durand  acting  as  sponsor  called  back 
responsively :  "  We  have  left  all  hope  behind." 

Durand  again  heard  clanking  noises  and  felt  his 


164         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

escort  lean  toward  him  and  he  thought  clasp  a 
chain  about  his  body. 

"  Is  the  candidate  bound  with  that  chain,  the 
other  end  of  which  was  welded  by  Vulcan  to  the 
head  pillar  of  Hades?"  called  out  a  voice  some 
where  in  the  darkness. 

"  He  is  so  bound,  Oh  Beelzebub,"  was  the  an 
swer;  "he  cannot  escape  us." 

"  Lead  forward  then,  this  imp  who  shall  be  our 
victim." 

Durand  felt  a  tug  on  the  chain  and  mechanically 
he  followed,  followed  on  he  knew  not  where,  and 
yet  was  not  afraid,  only  these  words  of  Dante, 
reiterated  by  the  invisible  Beelzebub,  preyed  a  bit 
on  his  mind.  In  the  darkness  he  could  not  tell 
whither  he  was  being  led.  However,  as  they  moved 
forward  occasionally  he  indistinctly  saw  forms 
seated  about  him,  which  again  disappeared  in  the  un 
certain  light.  As  they  moved  about,  he  heard 
groans  coming  from  far  off. 

"  The  demons  below  are  howling."  This  in 
deep  sepulchral  tones  from  his  escort.  It  was  re 
peated  several  times  elsewhere  and  his  sponsor  made 
the  same  comment  once  or  twice  again.  Then  they 
stopped  as  the  spear  was  brought  violently  down 
for  several  strokes  upon  the  carpeted  floor. 

"Who  comes?"  said  a  voice  in  front. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  165 

"  I,  acting  under  orders  from  and  impersonating 
our  Satanic  Majesty,  and  with  a  recruit." 

"His  name?" 

Durand  heard  his  own  name  repeated. 

"What  does  he  here?" 

"  He  purports  to  become  one  of  us." 

"  Is  he  suited  to  our  order?  " 

"  He  believes  not  in  a  deity  but  in  the  Devil." 

"  Then  he  is  qualified,  but  why  does  he  invade  the 
holy  sanctity  of  his  Majesty's  temple?" 

"  That  he  might  learn  of  Beelzebub." 

"  And  that  knowledge  is  to  be  found?  " 

"  In  and  through  the  teaching  of  Beelzebub." 

"  The  answers  show  a  proper  power  of  discern 
ment.  Proceed." 

The  candidate  was  escorted  about  the  place 
several  times,  a  process  that  was  slow,  owing  to 
the  darkness  and  the  size  of  the  room,  halting  oc 
casionally  while  some  dignitary  hailed  and  ques 
tioned  him,  his  escort  answering.  At  last  the  voice 
of  Beelzebub  spoke  again. 

"  Proceed  with  the  novitiate  to  the  shrine;  taking 
care  that  he  prostrate  himself,  face  to  the  ground, 
before  the  eternal  and  everlasting  fire  that  lights 
the  way  to  his  Majesty's  throne,  and  there  by  oath 
both  solemn  and  awful  bind  himself  to  the  order  of 
Satanists,  and  be  told  its  mysteries." 

As   Durand   was    conducted   towards   the   place 


1 66          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Beelzebub  had  designated,  the  place  from  whence 
had  come  the  only  light  present  that  had  caused 
those  weird  and  transitory  rays  about,  he  beheld  a 
dais,  circular  in  form,  in  the  foreground  of  which 
was  placed  a  large  bronze  urn,  or  rather  a  vase, 
three  feet  in  circumference.  It  was  highly  bur 
nished,  while  its  base  was  weirdly  and  beautifully 
resplendent  in  the  flood  of  light  that  came  as  he 
looked.  Within  the  urn  was  a  fire  that  seemed  to 
burn  of  itself,  having  no  fuel  so  far  as  could  be 
seen,  and  yet  it  burned.  He  thought  of  tales  of 
ancient  priests  and  seers,  who  by  magic  brought 
fire  from  apparently  nothing,  in  order  to  confound 
the  gullible  and  credulous.  He  wondered  if  these 
people  of  whom  he  was  becoming  a  part  knew  the 
secret  of  the  trick.  As  he  looked  it  brightened 
again,  and  he  felt  certain  this  fire  was  by  chemical 
process.  He  thought  he  heard  something  strike  the 
vase  each  time  just  before  it  burned  brightly. 
Knowing  that  whatever  it  might  be  it  must  descend 
from  somewhere,  he  glanced  aloft  and  saw  a  great 
outstretched  hand  reared  over  the  urn.  Following 
the  shadows  out  he  saw  an  immense  figure  of  iron 
— an  image  of  the  Devil  just  back  of  the  urn,  and  of 
which  the  hand  was  a  part, — a  hideous  thing  it 
looked,  monstrous  and  malignant.  Its  diabolical 
face  with  fierce  eyes  and  low  forehead,  open  mouth 
and  protruding  tongue,  together  with  the  sensual 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          167 

and  atrocious  expression,  made  it  appear  indeed  as 
the  handiwork  of  the  devil,  or  of  one  with  an  im 
agination  both  infernal  and  malevolent.  As  Du- 
rand  looked,  the  voice  of  his  prompter  spoke: 
"  Prostrate  yourself,  face  downward." 

He  complied.  Then  the  voice  of  Beelzebub  spoke : 
"  Repeat  these  words  as  they  fall  from  my  lips, 
'  In  the  presence  of  the  symbolic  Devil  before  me, 
whose  form  I  see  by  the  light  of  centuries,  a  light 
that  has  never  failed,  and  is  a  spark  from  Hades, 
and  also  in  the  presence  of  Beelzebub,  the  prince  of 
Devils,  Diespitis,  the  exhaler  of  sulphur,  of  Azazeh, 
that  demon  of  the  desert,  of  Lillith,  the  Devil's  bride 
to  be,  and  of  Osiarin,  the  receiver  of  the  souls  of 
the  damned,  I  swear  that  what  I  have  seen  or  shall 
hereafter  witness,  as  pertaining  to  the  order  of 
Satanists,  shall  be  forever  contained  within  me  a 
secret.  I  swear  that  I  believe  in  no  deity,  except 
the  Devil,  that  Satanic  teachings  are  superior  to 
all  other  beliefs,  that  I  believe  not  in  the  keeping 
of  the  decalogue  but  rather  in  sin,  license  and  free 
love ;  that  I  hold  the  Devil  above  all,  and  will  on  all 
occasions  so  extol  him ;  that  I  believe  in  many  devils 
as  the  ancients  believed  in  many  gods :  In  con 
tinuation  I  believe  in  the  power  of  Satan  over  good, 
and  his  presence  as  a  thing  to  be  sought.  On  all 
occasions  I  will  exemplify  the  teachings  of  the 
society  to  the  point  of  disobeying  the  decalogue  and 


1 68          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

all  state  laws,  and  that  its  teachings  might  be  pro 
pagated  I  would  rob  or  pillage.  I  would  sacrifice 
the  interests  of  my  family  to  the  interests  of  the 
society.  I  believe  in  the  powers  of  darkness,  the 
imps  of  Satan  and  the  Black  Mass.  Should  I  ever 
reveal  what  has  been  or  shall  be  unfolded  to  me,  I 
invite  the  Society  to  do  with  me  as  they  see  fit, 
even  to  the  point  of  roasting  my  body  while  yet 
alive  that  I  might  suffer  a  just  and  proper  torment 
for  my  violation.  I  this  swear  in  the  names  of  the 
devils  before  mentioned,  and  in  addition  by  all  the 
names  known  to  Demonology.' ' 

Durand  repeated  this  awful  oath  and  blasphemy 
without  a  tremor.  Not  that  he  believed  in  it,  but 
it  was  in  the  line  of  the  ritualistic  work,  and  he 
would  not  and  did  not  falter.  To  his  credit,  be  it 
said,  that  if  he  believed  in  either,  he  believed  more 
in  God  than  in  this  blasphemous  worship  of  the 
symbol  of  the  divine  antithesis.  He  entered  into 
it,  thinking  it  trivial,  and  analogous  to  many  sects 
of  the  dark  ages,  and  a  revival  of  those  demon 
worshippers  who  date  their  existence  to  the  begin 
ning  of  the  Christian  era. — So  he  turned  not  back, 
having  in  mind  only  one  object,  only  one  reason 
for  his  presence, — an  acquiescence  that  found  reason 
in  the  fascination  Mile.  Sara  cast  about  him,  a 
fascination  by  which  Eve  brought  Adam  down  and 
with  him  the  race  of  man.  By  reason  of  this  same 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          169 

fascination  Mark  Antony  forgot  his  own  coun 
try,  forgot  his  obligations  to  the  state  and  to  Caesar, 
and  in  Egypt's  queen  sought  and  found  new  and 
strange  gods.  This  we  say  not  in  condonement, 
not  in  amelioration,  but  rather  in  elucidation. 

"  Arise,"  said  the  conductor.  And  when  Durand 
had  risen,  the  lights  from  myriads  of  electric  globes 
were  flashed  on,  and  he  beheld  a  most  magnificently 
furnished  room,  with  several  rostrums  at  each  end 
and  side,  where  sat  the  dignities  who  had  assisted 
in  the  initiation.  These  rostrums  were  adorned 
with  canopies  supported  by  pillars  which  seemed 
like  burnished  gold.  The  one,  however,  from  which 
Beelzebub  presided,  had,  entwined  about  the  pil 
lars,  huge  carved  serpents  of  greenish  hue,  with 
open  jaws  and  fiery  tongues.  Reclining  on  divans 
and  settees  were  the  people  he  had  met  before  that 
evening,  many  of  whom  smiled  and  nodded  ap 
provingly  towards  him. 

Upon  the  walls  he  saw  large  paintings,  which, 
done  in  artistic  style,  yet  could  hardly  be  called 
handsome,  as  the  subject  of  each  painting  was  some 
cruel  devil  or  other  horror.  One  was  of  a  great 
satyr,  that,  half  goat  and  half  man,  had  in  its  face, 
the  acme  and  the  fulfillment  of  the  artist's  desire  to 
picture  lust  and  evil.  Pictures  of  horned  devils, 
out  of  whose  bodies  grew  monstrosities,  were  in 
plenty,  while  here  and  there  as  if  to  complete  the 


1 68          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

all  state  laws,  and  that  its  teachings  might  be  pro 
pagated  I  would  rob  or  pillage.  I  would  sacrifice 
the  interests  of  my  family  to  the  interests  of  the 
society.  I  believe  in  the  powers  of  darkness,  the 
imps  of  Satan  and  the  Black  Mass.  Should  I  ever 
reveal  what  has  been  or  shall  be  unfolded  to  me,  I 
invite  the  Society  to  do  with  me  as  they  see  fit, 
even  to  the  point  of  roasting  my  body  while  yet 
alive  that  I  might  suffer  a  just  and  proper  torment 
for  my  violation.  I  this  swear  in  the  names  of  the 
devils  before  mentioned,  and  in  addition  by  all  the 
names  known  to  Demonology.'  ' 

Durand  repeated  this  awful  oath  and  blasphemy 
without  a  tremor.  Not  that  he  believed  in  it,  but 
it  was  in  the  line  of  the  ritualistic  work,  and  he 
would  not  and  did  not  falter.  To  his  credit,  be  it 
said,  that  if  he  believed  in  either,  he  believed  more 
in  God  than  in  this  blasphemous  worship  of  the 
symbol  of  the  divine  antithesis.  He  entered  into 
it,  thinking  it  trivial,  and  analogous  to  many  sects 
of  the  dark  ages,  and  a  revival  of  those  demon 
worshippers  who  date  their  existence  to  the  begin 
ning  of  the  Christian  era. — So  he  turned  not  back, 
having  in  mind  only  one  object,  only  one  reason 
for  his  presence, — an  acquiescence  that  found  reason 
in  the  fascination  Mile.  Sara  cast  about  him,  a 
fascination  by  which  Eve  brought  Adam  down  and 
with  him  the  race  of  man.  By  reason  of  this  same 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          169 

fascination  Mark  Antony  forgot  his  own  coun 
try,  forgot  his  obligations  to  the  state  and  to  Caesar, 
and  in  Egypt's  queen  sought  and  found  new  and 
strange  gods.  This  we  say  not  in  condonement, 
not  in  amelioration,  but  rather  in  elucidation. 

"  Arise,"  said  the  conductor.  And  when  Durand 
had  risen,  the  lights  from  myriads  of  electric  globes 
were  flashed  on,  and  he  beheld  a  most  magnificently 
furnished  room,  with  several  rostrums  at  each  end 
and  side,  where  sat  the  dignities  who  had  assisted 
in  the  initiation.  These  rostrums  were  adorned 
with  canopies  supported  by  pillars  which  seemed 
like  burnished  gold.  The  one,  however,  from  which 
Beelzebub  presided,  had,  entwined  about  the  pil 
lars,  huge  carved  serpents  of  greenish  hue,  with 
open  jaws  and  fiery  tongues.  Reclining  on  divans 
and  settees  were  the  people  he  had  met  before  that 
evening,  many  of  whom  smiled  and  nodded  ap 
provingly  towards  him. 

Upon  the  walls  he  saw  large  paintings,  which, 
done  in  artistic  style,  yet  could  hardly  be  called 
handsome,  as  the  subject  of  each  painting  was  some 
cruel  devil  or  other  horror.  One  was  of  a  great 
satyr,  that,  half  goat  and  half  man,  had  in  its  face, 
the  acme  and  the  fulfillment  of  the  artist's  desire  to 
picture  lust  and  evil.  Pictures  of  horned  devils, 
out  of  whose  bodies  grew  monstrosities,  were  in 
plenty,  while  here  and  there  as  if  to  complete  the 


170         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

scheme,  a  dragon  atrocious  and  horrible  was 
seen. 

Again  he  looked  and  saw  another  painting,  whose 
presentment  made  him  feel  uncomfortable.  It  was 
of  mammoth  proportions,  occupying  fully  one 
quarter  of  the  end  of  the  room.  It  was  of  an  iron- 
wrought  gateway  with  closed  doors,  swinging  on 
heavy  posts.  Its  title  was  "  The  gate  we  shall 
enter."  Through  the  cracks  around  the  door  in  the 
painting  smoke  was  issuing,  and  here  and  there  a 
dull  red  glow  showed,  while  one  could  almost  be 
lieve  the  smoke  that  had  floated  away  in  the  cloud 
above  was  laden  with  sulphurous  odors.  Not  these 
things  were  responsible  for  Durand's  apprehension, 
or  the  slight  quaking  he  felt,  but  in  letters  of  gold 
over  the  doorway  he  saw  written  again  those  words  : 
"  All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here." 

"  Loose  the  chain  about  his  middle  for  now  he 
is  bound  by  an  oath  stronger  than  chains,"  he 
heard.  Then  followed  an  explanation  of  the  sym 
bols  of  the  fire  and  the  devils  before  him,  an  ex 
planation  which  seemed  to  be  frivolous,  but  he 
paid  great  heed,  however,  to  what  was  said.  He 
learned  that  the  Devil  was  created  at  the  dawn  of 
sorcery,  and  that  sorcery  antedated  knowledge  and 
was  greater  than  science.  He  learned  that  the 
order  was  born  at  the  birth  of  Adam  and  that  Adam 
was  its  first  presiding  officer;  that  the  idol  and 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          171 

another  like  it,  whose  location  would  yet  be  re 
vealed  to  him,  was  taken  from  the  temple  of  Osiris 
that  was  built  by  one  of  the  Rameses  of  Egypt,  and 
that  the  eternal  fire  was  then  burning,  even  as  it 
yet  burned.  Believing  in  his  theory  that  the  fire 
was  of  chemical  origin,  Durand  almost  smiled,  yet 
refrained  as  he  felt  that  his  levity  might  cause  him 
to  be  dismissed  even  before  he  knew  all.  He 
realized  that  although  he  was  only  half-hearted  in 
enthusiasm  and  entertained  no  such  belief  as  was 
exacted  from  him,  yet  he  thought  the  belief  as  good 
as  any  perhaps,  and  he  had  no  objection  in  con 
tinuing.  He  learned  that  even  the  painting  he  had 
looked  upon  had  a  significance,  and  the  significance 
was  explained.  Here  the  candidate  was  made  ac 
quainted  with  the  grip  of  the  order  and  given  the 
password,  which  were  the  words  that  had  chilled 
him.  "  All  hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here." 

"  Prepare  the  fire  that  the  candidate  may  be  tried 
as  to  his  fortitude,"  was  next  commanded. 

"  It  is  ready,  O  Beelzebub,"  was  replied.  And 
then  a  roaring  sound  filled  the  room  as  if  some 
mighty  cataract  of  flame  had  burst  forth.  It 
crackled  and  roared  like  a  mighty  chimney  draft. 
At  once  a  door  at  the  left  opened  and  from  behind 
it  a  great  light  filled  the  room  that  had  suddenly 
been  darkened  from  within.  This  glow  cast  its 


172          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

fiery  light  about  in  every  corner,  while  the  roar  in 
creased  to  a  deafening  noise. 

"  You  are  to  be  purged  that  the  last  vestige  of 
any  former  religion  may  be  burned  away,"  said 
Beelzebub.  "  In  order  that  you  may  show  proper 
fortitude  and  courage  in  the  future,  you  will  pass 
through  yon  cloud  of  burning  sulphur." 

The  attendant  took  his  arm  and  whispered  to 
him,  "  Double  quick  now !  "  starting  off  at  a  rapid 
run  toward  this  door  beyond  which  was  the  wall  of 
flame. 

Never  faltering  Durand  obeyed  the  order  and 
ran  unhesitatingly  with  his  escort  to  the  door  of 
fire,  while  the  attendant  stopped  and  drew  back, 
administering  a  mighty  shove  to  the  candidate. 
As  he  did  so  Durand  fairly  leaped  into  what  was 
beyond. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          173 


CHAPTER  VI. 

As  Durand  leaped  into  the  wall  of  flame  before 
him,  he  heard  a  mighty  chorus  of  derisive  cheers 
as  the  spectators  approved  of  his  courage.  As  he 
ran  he  thought  "  This  company  have  all  passed 
through  this  same  fire."  He  felt  if  they  survived 
it,  he  would.  Besides,  he  remembered  the  trick 
of  the  eternal  fire,  and  was  assured  that  this  purging 
mission  was  to  try  one's  courage  rather  than  harm. 
In  leaping  forward  he  was  sure  that  he  would  land 
on  his  feet,  safe  in  body.  This  proved  true.  He 
had  merely  passed  through  a  wall  of  artificial  fire, 
known  as  red  fire,  a  composition  of  certain  chemi 
cals,  that  when  lighted  give  forth  a  flame  that  is 
colored  at  the  discretion  of  the  maker.  This  fire 
was  mechanically  arranged  about  the  doorway,  at 
its  sides  and  overhead.  The  effect  was  all  that  was 
desired.  The  crackling  and  roaring  was  the  result 
of  certain  stage  appliances  that  in  operation  would 
provoke  the  other  respective  noises;  all  farcical  to 
be  sure,  but  before  its  exterior  more  than  one  had 
quaked,  and  few  had  shown  the  fortitude  exhibited 
by  Durand. 


174          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

This  whole  proceeding  had  been  to  him  a  diver 
sion  that  was  welcome.  He  had  looked  upon  it  as 
a  frivolous  and  mean  attempt  to  profane  Christian 
religion,  and  while  he  did  not  regret  this  profana 
tion  he  was  willing,  indeed  he  was  anxious  to 
pass  through  it,  for  there  was  Mile.  Sara  as  a  prize 
to  thus  win. 

Durand  found  himself  not  alone  after  passing 
through  this  purging  process.  Instead  he  found 
several  men  waiting  for  him,  who  extended  their 
hands  and  congratulated  him  on  his  bravery. 
While  in  conversation  with  them  he  heard  a  com 
motion  inside  and  knew  that  those  in  the  main 
temple  were  passing  elsewhere.  Soon  he  was 
ushered  through  a  door  at  his  right  and  found  him 
self  in  a  large  and  richly  furnished  banquet  hall, 
that  ablaze  with  light  from  blue  bulbs  on  all  sides 
really  gave  out  the  glow  of  Fairyland,  when  per 
haps  the  effect  desired  was  the  coloring  of  the 
sulphurous  glint  of  Hades. 

This  room  or  banquet  hall  was  in  length  greater 
by  half  than  in  breadth.  One  long,  richly  dressed 
table  was  in  its  center. 

Most  of  the  company  had  entered  before  Durand 
was  ushered  in,  and  noisily  were  being  seated.  He 
was  directed  to  a  certain  seat  where  presently  he 
found  himself  oposite  M.  and  Mme.  La  Monta, 
and  with  Mile.  Sara  at  his  right  and  M.  Divan  just 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          175 

beyond.  The  Mademoiselle  nodded  as  she  smiled 
and  said,  "  The  guest  of  honor  are  you.  Oh,  but 
you  were  a  good  candidate !  " 

"  The  goal  is  worth  being  good  for,"  he  replied. 
The  others  thinking  he  referred  to  the  society  in  his 
compliment  smiled,  while  Mile.  Sara  arched  her 
brows  understandingly  as  though  to  warn  him  of 
perilous  ground,  or  the  danger  should  the  real 
meaning  be  suspected  by  Divan. 

She  returned :  "  Are  you  then  so  pleased  with 
our  \vays  or  are  you  jesting?  " 

"I  never  jest,"  said  he;  "I  am  indeed  pleased 
that  I  was  invited  to  join.  These  people  I  like; 
the  ceremony  I  enjoy;  while  the  theme  underlying 
it  all  appeals  to  me  as  something  I  have  long  sought 
and  now  find." 

"  Aye,"  said  La  Monta.  "  Indeed  the  ceremony 
is  grand,  yet  should  you  be  privileged  to  go  further 
and  view  what  is  beyond  you  will  indeed  have 
reason  to  be  glad  you  witnessed  it." 

"Why  should  he  not  go  on?  Why  not?  We 
may  be  chosen  among  the  envoys  who  are  to  wit 
ness  what  is  beyond,"  said  Mile.  Sara. 

"  Like  enough.    Like  enough,"  replied  La  Monta. 

Durand  had  wondered  at  the  presence  of  waiters 
at  the  table  who,  by  this  time,  were  serving  viands. 
He  wondered  if  they  knew  whom  they  served  or  of 
the  character  of  the  place.  Then  he  remembered 


176          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

seeing  some  one  lock  the  doors  leading  into  rooms 
the  party  had  just  quitted,  and  he  knew  these 
waiters  must  be  in  ignorance,  partially  at  least  of 
what  transpired  beyond  the  doors.  He  noticed, 
however,  that  Mile.  Sara  and  La  Monta  had 
hushed  their  voices  as  a  waiter  approached. 

The  banquet  was  now  well  under  way.  Peals 
of  music  drew  Durand's  attention  to  the  extreme 
end  of  the  hall.  He  beheld  a  large  organ  built  into 
the  wall,  and  at  it  seated  a  man  who  brought  forth 
beautiful  notes — notes  that  seemed  inharmonious  to 
what  he  had  witnessed  and  to  the  character  of 
those  present. 

A  waiter  appeared  followed  by  another  bearing 
trays  of  bottles  and  glasses.  As  the  guest  of  honor 
he  was  served  first.  He  was  offered  champagne 
and  absinthe.  Wisely  he  chose  champagne,  yet  he 
noticed  that  in  contradiction  to  his  choice  nearly 
all  present  took  absinthe.  Then  he  connected  these 
devilish  affairs  and  worship  with  the  effect  of 
absinthe  and  considered  that  one  was  the  child  of  the 
other, — one  the  product  of  insane  imaginings  in 
cited  by  the  other. 

Slowly  the  liquors  took  effect.  It  was  evidenced 
at  first  by  a  loud  laugh  or  guffaw  here  and  a 
flushed  face  there.  He  sat  quietly  and  viewed  the 
scene,  and  after  an  hour  came  to  believe  that  nearly 
one  hundred  people  before  him  were  drunk. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          177 

Finally  La  Monta  as  toastmaster  arose.  Half 
turning,  he  pointed  his  finger  at  the  painting  on  the 
wall  behind  Durand  which  had  escaped  his  notice 
so  far.  Said  La  Monta :  "  See  our  latest  acquisi 
tion,  a  painting  done  for  us  under  the  supervision 
of  a  competent  committee.  It  represents  a  scene 
that  theologians  love  to  dwell  upon  and  which  refers 
to  the  wanton  use  of  so-called  sacred  vessels  that 
were  taken  by  a  great  king's  father  from  the 
temple  of  the  Jews.  These  men  in  clerical  garb, 
who  would  that  all  get  inspiration  from  them  per 
sonally,  make  much  of  the  facts  of  the  final  ending 
in  rout  and  slaughter  that  they  say  fell  to  the  lot  of 
Belshazzar  for  his  sacrilege  and  blasphemous  of 
fense.  This  painting  is  the  counterpart,  as  the 
eminent  artists  saw  it,  of  Belshazzar's  feast.  Look 
upon  it,  my  beloved  adherents  of  Belshazzar's  re 
ligion,  and  say  if  it  is  not  a  thing  of  beauty."  All 
gazed  upon  the  picture,  noting  its  salient  points,  its 
beauty  and  the  workmanship. 

La  Monta  continued.  "  Notice  the  beautiful  wo 
men  at  the  feast,  concubines  of  the  king  it  is  fair  to 
presume.  One  can  nearly  imagine  that  these  faces 
depicted  something  beside  fear,  a  moment  before, 
yet  that  black  hand  on  the  wall  beyond  had  struck 
terror  to  the  hearts  of  all,  even  the  king.  Instead 
of  voluptuous  satiety  being  depicted  upon  the  face 
of  beauty,  there  is  the  look  of  scorn,  hate,  fear, 
12 


178         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

disapproval,  violent  agitation  and  distress.  The 
warriors'  faces  have  caught  up  the  feeling  of  the 
women  and  also  reveal  mingled  emotions.  Even 
old  Belshazzar  has  allowed  the  prevalent  alarm  to 
throw  him  into  frenzied  concern.  Upon  his  face 
you  read  defeat,  violent  passion  subdued  by  greater 
power  alone,  and  a  surrender  to  that  power.  All 
is  beautifully  depicted,  yet  as  false  as  the  story  un 
derlying  it." 

The  glass  in  his  hand  was  brought  into  repeated 
play  as  he  held  it  again  and  again  to  his  lips,  drink 
ing  great  draughts,  while  a  waiter  replenished  the 
disappearing  absinthe. 

The  banqueters  before  him  followed  suit.  "  The 
story  is  a  lie,"  shrieked  the  infuriated  La  Monta, 
"  and  a  fabrication.  Belshazzar,  if  he  held  that 
feast,  never  saw  the  hand  on  the  wall, — a  super 
natural  thing  of  which  in  history  there  is  no  proof 
or  counterpart.  No  proof,  I  say,  and  I  defy  this 
God  to  interfere  with  what  shall  be  done  here." 
Forgetting  the  presence  of  those  who  were  un 
initiated,  he  Belshazzar-like  said  to  one  or  two  per 
sons,  calling  them  by  name : 

"  Go  into  the  chamber  and  from  beneath  the  idol 
of  his  Satanic  Majesty  draw  forth  and  bring  hither 
the  vessels  you  find  there, — vessels  that  we  have 
pillaged  or  caused  to  be  pillaged  from  Catholic 
churches  throughout  France." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          179 

M.  Divan  was  on  his  feet  at  once.  "  I  would  not 
question  your  authority  in  the  matter,  Oh  Beelze 
bub  ;  I  would  not  presume  to  usurp  your  power,  yet 
I  beg  to  inform  you  that  the  silver  vessels  were  col 
lected  for  a  more  necessary  and  glorious  purpose 
than  that  of  assisting  in  the  exemplification  of  your 
defiance.  They  were  accumulated  with  great  stealth 
and  exposure  to  harm.  Bravery  alone  accounting 
for  some  of  the  more  cherished  ones,  and  for  a 
more  definite  purpose, — they  are  to  be  used,  you  re 
member,  when  a  great  fete  will  be  held  and  a  bride 
will  be  furnished  his  Satanic  Majesty.  I  beg  you 
that  that  occasion  be  their  dedication  to  our  service 
and  not  now  as  you  would  use  them. 

La  Monta,  beside  himself  that  his  right  and  au 
thority  wrere  questioned,  replied,  "  Nay  I  care  not 
for  your  babblings ;  when  I  wish  to  use  these  vessels 
I  will  use  them,  and  now,  one  and  all  shall  drink 
and  eat  from  them.  Again  I  say  bring  forth  the 
pillaged  sacramental  services  that  we  may  use 
them." 

Divan's  face  flushed  violently  at  the  rebuff  meted 
to  his  words  of  counsel  and  fell  to  drinking  heavily, 
a  thing  he  rarely  did,  while  those  designated  un 
locked  the  door  and  entered  the  temple  proper, 
bringing  back  armfuls  of  silver  goblets,  chalices, 
pitchers,  plates  and  vases,  all  of  solid  silver  and 
which  in  history  had  been  sacred  to  some  God- 


i8o          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

fearing  priest  and  his  communicants.  Some  were 
beautifully  wrought  and  chased  with  scenes  that 
were  Catholic  symbols.  Others  were  gold  inlaid, 
and  all  were  the  finest  that  could  be  produced,  and 
dated  back,  perhaps  in  some  cases,  to  the  reign  of  a 
Gregory  or  a  Pius  who  affixed  to  his  name  Roman 
numerals  that  were  of  low  denomination. 

La  Monta  commanded  that  they  be  distributed 
about  and  that  wines  and  viands  henceforth  during 
this  banquet  be  served  from  them. 

"  There,"  he  said,  as  all  complied.  "  Look  upon 
the  walls  on  all  sides  and  see  if  any  handwriting 
there  appears,  that  spells  our  doom.  Nonsense,  non 
sense,  I  say,  is  the  story  of  Belshazzar.  Music," 
he  bellowed  forth,  "  that  we  may  add  zest  to  our 
Belshazzar  feast.  Give  us  music." 

The  organ  again  gave  forth  an  air  with  which 
all  seemed  familiar.  It  was  an  air  common  in  the 
concert  halls  of  Paris'  Bohemia,  and  was  rollicking 
and  swinging.  Soon  the  crowd  took  up  the  words 
and  men  and  women  alike  sang  the  words  to  a 
song  that  would  bring  the  blush  to  any  cheek  whose 
owner  possessed  modesty.  Such  was  the  moral 
status  of  the  devil-worshippers.  A  man  when 
drunken  develops  his  natural  traits  and  says  and 
does  things  that  when  sober  are  hidden  under  the 
veneer  of  refinement ;  but  when  drunken,  especially 
on  absinthe,  his  depravity  knows  no  bounds. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          181 

The  singers  swayed  back  and  forth,  singing  and 
holding  aloft  the  sacred  vessels  as  the  liquor  coursed 
in  their  veins,  some  in  frenzy  shouting,  jumping 
from  their  seats  and  madly  dancing  about  the  room. 
The  waiters,  having  witnessed  these  scenes  before, 
looked  on  without  astonishment.  They  dared  not 
show  surprise,  as  the  revenue  they  received  was 
large.  They  maintained  their  equanimity  there  and 
their  secrecy  thereafter. 

As  we  have  said,  M.  Divan,  chagrined  at  the 
rebuff  he  received,  drank  heavily  and  now  showed  it 
plainly.  His  head  gradually  tilted  forward,  his 
body  relaxed  as  he  drank  again  and  again  from  the 
poison,  stupor-giving  potion.  Mile.  Sara  watched 
him  closely, — never  raising  a  protesting  word  or 
hand,  rendering  him  no  steadying  assistance  as  he 
swayed  in  his  chair,  yet  observing  the  quantity  he 
consumed. 

La  Monta's  wife,  however,  protested  repeatedly 
as  her  lord  drank,  yet  she  drank  with  him,  until 
finally  both  leaned  forward,  their  arms  supported 
by  the  table,  their  heads  upon  their  arms,  where 
they  snored. 

Divan  made  an  effort  to  rise  up.  Instead  his 
feet  slipped  from  underneath  him,  and  he  slipped 
down,  down  under  the  table  where  he  lay  in  a 
stupor. 

Durand  drank  little,  yet  once  he  had  almost  given 


1 82          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

way  to  the  general  ribaldry  of  song  and  liquor  ami 
found  himself  singing,  and  was  about  to  drink  from 
his  cup  again  when  he  caught  the  meaning  look  of 
Mile.  Sara,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  Don't.  Let  the 
others  but  not  you." 

He  set  the  goblet  down  untasted  this  time  and 
asked  himself  why  this  warning.  After  the  collapse 
of  Divan  he  understood.  She  arose  and  meaningly 
looking  into  his  eyes,  left  the  room.  A  moment 
later  he  followed. 

He  found  her  in  an  ante-room,  waiting  for  him. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  there  are  smoking  and  read 
ing  rooms  on  the  next  floor.  Come  with  me." 

Following  her  they  came  to  a  stairway  and  she 
preceded.  They  made  their  way  up  and  then  along 
a  well-furnished  corridor.  She  stopped  at  one  of 
the  rooms,  and  opening  the  door  they  both  entered. 

"  You  are  wise,"  said  Durand.  "  You  did  not 
protest  at  Divan's  drinking." 

"  No,  to  avoid  a  scene,  with  him  ancl  me  as  prin 
cipal  actors,  I  said  naught.  Besides  I  wanted  to  be 
here  with  you." 

"  I  appreciate  your  choice,"  he  said. 

She  seated  herself  on  the  divan  and  motioned  him 
to  her  side.  "  Let  us  talk.  Amuse  me,"  she  said, 
"  for  I  am  tired  of  this  life  and  its  entailments 
incidental  to  the  Satanists." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          183 

"  Tired  of  life,"  he  said,  "  you  who  have  so 
much?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  tired  of  it  all."  "  Every  time  I  come 
here  I  grow  more  so.  To-night  as  I  looked  upon 
your  initiation  I  regretted  that  I  brought  you  here, 
regretted  that  you  came  here,  while  the  banquet 
gave  me  a  further  loathing  for  it  all  that  I  had  not 
felt  before." 

"  You  are  growing  good,"  he  said. 

"  I  hope  so  "  was  her  simple  reply.  "  No,  I  am 
not,  but  of  late  there  is  within  me  at  times  a  pro 
testing  conscience.  Had  my  lot  been  along  dif 
ferent  lines  I  should  have  been  different." 

"  You  are  moralizing,"  he  laughed.  "  Yet  you 
grow  not  tired  of  M.  Divan." 

She  looked  at  him  critically.  "  I  would  leave 
him  any  time,  yet  what  else  is  there  for  me  to  do 
but  make  the  best  of  what  I  have?  " 

"  Come  with  me,"  he  said,  "  I  will  care  for  you." 

"As  your  mistress?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.     "  Why  not?  " 

For  a  time  there  was  silence.  She  gazed  upon 
the  floor.  Then  she  spoke.  "  Never  before  have  I 
felt  as  I  feel  to-night.  As  I  look  upon  you,  know 
ing  you  to  be  far  from  good,  yet  I  feel  that  you 
are  entering  upon  a  plane  that  in  time  would  prove 
your  undoing.  I  pity  you  because  I  care  for  you. 
Those  fearful  words  that  are  the  perpetual  pass- 


1 84          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

words  of  the  order  startle  me  and  make  me  afraid." 

Durand  looked  at  her  keenly.  "  They  startled 
me,"  he  said. 

She  continued.  "  I  am  but  a  woman  after  all, 
and  to-night  their  meaning  sank  deep  into  my  heart 
and  I  fear  some  direful  punishment  will  be  meted 
to  us." 

He  said,  "  Why  not  change  your  title  of  Lillith, 
the  High  Priestess,  to  Lillith,  the  High  Prophetess?" 

"  Nay,"  she  said,  "  I  am  serious.  I  fear  after 
all  this  is  but  blasphemy,  and  as  I  said,  will  not  go 
unpunished." 

"  Your  faith  in  the  Devil  is  wavering." 

"  I  never  had  this  faith,  as  you  know.  Neither 
have  they  who  compose  its  active  membership. 
They  are  liars,  every  one  of  them.  This  religion 
suits  their  lives,  desires  and  hellish  propensities  and 
so  they  follow  it." 

"  Whew !  "  he  said,  "  a  philosopher  as  well  as  a 
moralizer." 

"  No,  neither,  but  one  tired  of  this  blasphemy  and 
who  would,  if  she  could,  escape  it.  Had  you  asked 
me  previous  to  to-night  to  be  your  mistress  I  should 
have  been  willing,  but  now  I  see  it  differently. 
The  feeling  for  you  which  I  experience  is  love, 
tainted  of  course,  yet  I  am  capable  of  a  true  love. 
I  feel  it  and  know  it." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          185 

He  laughed.  "  And  what  would  you  with  me, 
you  would  rather  become  a  wife  than  a  mistress?  " 

"  To  you,  yes." 

"  Impossible,"  he  said,  "  impossible." 

Silence  reigned  for  a  time. 

"  You  had  better  remain  as  you  are,"  he  finally 
said. 

She  replied  simply,  "  I  will.  We  will  leave  the 
matter  thus." 

"  But  tell  me,  what  of  this  affair  that  you  spoke 
of  to-night,  this  going  forward  and  seeing  more 
and  learning  more  of  the  Satanists  beyond?" 

"  Do  you  not  know  ?  " 

"No,  how  should  I?" 

"  I  will  tell  you.  The  worship  of  the  Satanists 
culminates  in  what  is  known  as  the  marriage  of 
Satan.  A  bride  is  chosen  for  him  from  among  the 
popular  and  beautiful  women  of  the  order  universal, 
for  there  are  many  more  lodges  than  this  one,  some 
here  in  France  and  some  in  your  own  America.  I 
believe  from  among  them  all  is  chosen  she  who  be 
comes  the  Devil's  bride.  She  is  chosen  by  a  con 
clave  of  all  the  members.  She  is  termed  Lillith." 

"  You  are  to  be  the  Devil's  bride?  " 

She  nodded  acquiescence. 

"  Where  and  when  is  this  to  be?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  the  far  off  city  of  St.  Pierre  on  the  Island  of 
Martinique.  There  is  the  head  of  the  Satanists. 


186          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

There  I  believe  is  a  beautiful  temple  fitted  gor 
geously.  In  it  is  contained  the  most  huge  and 
devilish  Devil  yet  produced.  To  him  I  am  to  be 
united  by  a  ceremony  that  only  the  unblushing 
should  witness.  At  first  I  shrank  from  it,  but  was 
assured  many  times  that  I  was  especially  favored 
and  honored,  so  I  consented.  I  did  not  want  it, 
but  M.  Divan  urged  me  on.  There  are  the  jewels 
and  the  fine  dresses,  you  know,"  and  she  sighed 
deeply,  "  and  one  has  to  live  and  I  like  to  live  well." 

"  I  would  like  to  witness  this  ceremony.  I  would 
like  the  journey  to  Martinique.  I  have  nothing  else 
to  do." 

"  You  wrish  to  go  ?  Then  you  think  yourself  of 
the  unblushing  variety,  do  you?  Well  we  can  ar 
range  it  perhaps,  you  and  I,  so  you  may  go.  I 
will  speak  to  La  Monta  and  he  will  put  it  through. 
I  wonder  how  M.  Divan  is  faring.  It  is  nearly 
morning.  I  will  go  below  and  look  him  up."  Both 
arose  to  go.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  then  you  will  stay 
with  M.  Divan?" 

"Yes,  why  not?" 

Durand  had  never  thought  of  her  as  his  wife. 
Indeed  he  had  never  loved  a  woman  in  that  way. 
The  idea  was  so  foreign  to  him  that  he  could  not 
entertain  it.  Not  that  he  objected  seriously  to  Sara 
because  she  was  "  tainted,"  as  she  had  put  it  her 
self,  yet  he  could  not  think  of  her  as  his  wife. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          187 

As  for  her,  she  was  not  devoid  of  womanhood. 
Her  position,  she  claimed,  was  forced  upon  her  by 
the  inevitable  and  all  enduring  problem  of — how  to 
live.  In  seeking  a  living  by  the  only  way  her  train 
ing  led  her,  she  had  met  Durand  and  carried  out  his 
nefarious  plot.  She  had  shown  herself  to  possess 
some  womanly  instincts  in  that  she  was  good  to 
Olive,  in  that  she  recently  admitted  to  Durand  that 
she  often  thought  of  her.  While  her  partial  change 
in  attitude  was  through  fear  and  disgust  rather 
than  reformation  of  character,  yet  she  loved  Du 
rand  with  as  much  love  as  her  burned  out  spirit 
could  summon  and  she  longed  for  a  chance  to  be  a 
wife  and  quit  the  manner  of  living  as  best  one  can. 
She  wanted  an  assured  home  and  means.  This  con 
viction  came  to  her  suddenly  during  the  period  of 
fear  while  the  initiation  was  on, — that  she  would 
play  Durand  with  the  end  in  view  of  marrying  him 
and  thus  be  enabled  to  reform  and  forever  quit  the 
Satanists. 

He  looked  at  her  curiously.  "  At  least  you 
will  allow  me  to  kiss  you  as  a  reward  for  not 
pressing  this  matter." 

She  moved  toward  him  in  answer,  his  arms  were 
about  her,  and  he  kissed  her.  The  door  opened  and 
the  drunken  Divan  stood  and  viewed  them  momen 
tarily.  Then  like  an  infuriated  bull  he  rushed  upon 
Durand.  The  agile  Durand,  however,  side-stepped 


1 88          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

and  Divan  plunged  forward  to  turn  about  and  re 
peat  the  performance.  He  caught  Durand's  coat 
sleeves  as  roaring  and  profaning  he  lunged.  Du- 
rand  easily  broke  from  him,  giving  him  a  shove  as 
he  did  so  that  sent  the  huge  man  on  the  floor  in 
the  corner.  He  was  up  in  a  second,  and  from  his 
hip  pocket  drew  a  pistol. 

"  You  both  die,"  he  said.  "  I  will  teach  you  to 
make  love  while  I  am  drunken." 

Like  a  battering  ram  Durand  sprang  at  him, 
covering  the  seven  or  eight  feet  that  separated  them 
at  a  single  bound,  landing  his  body  against  that  of 
his  bulky  opponent  with  enough  force  to  have  felled 
him  even  without  the  crushing  blow  he  dealt  as  he 
he  lept.  Like  a  felled  ox  the  form  of  Divan 
measured  itself  on  the  floor  and  did  not  move  or 
stir.  Sara  gazed  upon  the  prostrate  man  silently 
and  without  protest.  Then  she  turned  upon  Du 
rand  and  said  quietly,  "  It  is  doubtful  after  this  if 
you  go  to  Martinique  as  a  chosen  representative." 

"  Then  I  will  go  without  credentials." 

Divan  lay  there  on  the  floor  unconscious,  while 
Durand  went  below  to  summon  a  cab.  Twenty 
minutes  later  the  still  unconscious  Divan  was  borne 
out  to  the  waiting  cab  and  to  his  home,  Mile. 
Sara  and  Durand  accompanying. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          189 


BOOK  III. 
CHAPTER  I. 

IT  was  a  scene  on  which  a  poet  would  love  to 
dwell,  over  which  an  artist  would  enthuse  and  one 
that  would  appeal  to  every  lover  of  the  beautiful. 
The  sun  had  just  hidden  his  face  behind  the  volcanic 
peak  of  Mount  Pelee,  a  notice  that  in  this  Southern 
clime  it  would  be  dark  soon,  for  here  the  night 
follows  the  day  in  great  rapidity.  The  moon  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  horizon  had  just  commenced 
her  lofty  ride  zenithward.  Her  lustrous  and  large 
face  with  which  she  favors  the  South  seemed  en 
hanced  as  she  slowly  arose  above  the  line  of  vision. 
Far  back  on  either  side  of  the  valley  indistinctly 
could  be  traced  the  outlines  of  barren  and  burned 
out  volcanic  mountains,  in  strange  contrast  to  the 
beautiful,  fertile  and  spacious  valley  intervening. 

Upon  the  roadway  traversing  the  valley  were 
many  similar  houses  that  bore  the  same  relation,  in 
a  commercial  way,  to  sugar  interests  of  the  island. 
One  in  particular,  not  unlike  the  others,  demands 
our  attention.  We  see  it  set  in  the  shade  of  many 


190         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

royal  palms,  a  little  back  from  the  road,  a  path 
leading  from  the  road  back  to  the  veranda.  The 
path  ran  between  lines  of  clematis,  with  mangoes 
or  cocoanuts  forming  a  background  on  either  side, 
in  splendid  and  luxuriant  array. 

This  house  was  located  on  the  road  from  St. 
Pierre  to  Fort  de  France.  It  was  low  and  broad,  of 
a  single  story,  yet  covering  much  ground,  and  with 
spacious  rooms.  The  roof  was  of  gothic  style  with 
a  number  of  dormers.  About  the  whole  front  and 
both  ends  extended  a  broad,  and  high  veranda,  an 
addition  the  rule,  rather  than  the  exception,  with 
houses  in  this  climate.  From  the  floor  of  the 
veranda  extending  to  the  ground  was  a  lattice  work, 
some  five  feet  high,  for  the  first  floor  was  high  from 
the  ground. 

Surrounding  the  porch,  strung  from  its  support 
ing  posts,  was  a  wire  screen  whose  meshes  were  so 
fine  that  it  served  the  purposed  intentions,  that  of 
keeping  out  the  flies  and  mosquitoes,  these  enemies 
of  humanity  who  live  in  climates  that  are  pro 
ductive  of  those  pests.  A  close  shutting  screen  door 
opened  at  the  front  in  the  center  of  the  veranda, 
where  the  walk  met  the  steps,  the  steps  that  were 
the  approach  to  the  veranda. 

Behind  the  screen  and  a  little  to  the  left  of  the 
door  sat  two  young  men.  They  sat,  or  rather  re 
clined  in  large  bamboo  chairs,  curiously  wrought,  as 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          191 

to  workmanship  and  design,  by  the  native  Mar- 
tiniqueans.  The  native  cunning  in  mechanical 
ability  was  plainly  seen  in  the  twisted  posts,  the 
fan-back  and  the  foot-rest. 

One  of  these  young  men  was  of  medium  height, 
gray  eyes  and  light  complexion.  His  eyes  were 
bright  and  carried  with  their  glance  an  assurance 
of  character.  He  was  dressed  in  a  white  linen 
suit,  trousers  and  coat  both  capacious  and  comfort 
able.  White  canvas  shoes  were  on  his  feet,  while 
a  panama  hat  of  large  proportions  and  rakish  shape 
sat  on  his  head.  His  smoothly  shaven  face  under 
neath  the  hat  was  jovial  and  good  looking,  his  nose 
high,  thin,  and  unusual  in  this  hemisphere. 

His  face  was  interesting,  and  its  perfect  contour 
carried  frankness  and  honesty  in  every  line.  He 
was  alert  in  manner  and  quick  of  speech,  although 
he  deliberated  before  answering  questions  that 
needed  thought. 

The  other  was  of  a  different  make-up  and  de 
meanor.  He  was  a  little  darker,  about  the  same 
height  and  had  about  him  the  marks  of  good  breed 
ing,  yet  an  indolent,  careless  way.  He  was  dressed 
similar  as  to  clothes,  excepting  his  hat,  which  was 
of  straw,  of  sailor  style  and  bore  inside  the  name  of 
a  New  York  maker.  He  was  himself  a  New- 
Yorker,  the  guest  of  the  other.  His  name  was  Mr. 
Franklyn  Best. 


192          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  other  man  had  come  to  Martinique  as  the 
agent  of  a  New  York  corporation,  owners  of  a  vast 
sugar  estate,  of  which  the  young  man  was  a  share 
holder  as  well  as  manager.  Best  was  a  visitor  of 
the  other,  who  was  Mr.  Harold  Graham,  son  of 
the  New  York  banker. 

Harold  Graham  had  been  a  resident  here  for 
some  seven  years.  He  had  been  most  successful  as 
a  grower  of  cane,  having  hundreds  of  acres  under 
cultivation,  in  the  midst  of  which  he  had  erected  a 
crushing  plant  and  more  recently  a  refinery  of  large 
proportions.  So  large  was  the  plantation  that  a 
railroad  had  been  built,  two  lines  in  fact,  running 
from  east  to  west  and  from  north  to  south,  inter 
secting  at  the  point  of  the  crushing  plant  and  the 
refinery,  thus  expediting  labor  and  reducing  ex 
penses  of  hauling  the  green  cane.  He  had  lived 
here,  engrossed  with  his  work,  not  taking  time  to 
visit  his  home,  but  labored  on  rejoicing  in  his  suc 
cesses  and  the  approbation  expressed  in  the  letters 
received  from  the  company's  home  office,  a  com 
pany  that,  projected  by  his  father,  he  took  great 
pride  in  serving. 

Since  his  advent  here  he  had  until  recently  not 
only  forbidden  himself  the  pleasure  of  a  visit  to  his 
native  home,  but  had  not  viewed  even  a  face  that 
was  familiar.  He  had  made  friends  here,  yet  there 
were  few  Americans  among  them,  French  for  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          193 

most  part,  and  while  he  learned  their  language,  he 
had  not  affiliated  with  them  in  a  social  way,  as  their 
ways  were  far  from  his  ways.  While  only  a  few 
miles  outside  from  St.  Pierre,  and  going  there  often 
on  business,  such  as  buying  supplies  or  procuring 
cash  with  which  to  pay  the  native  help,  yet  he 
never  mixed  with  people  in  this  wonderful  little 
city  of  the  tropics. 

Recently  he  had  gone  home  on  the  receipt  of  a 
cablegram  announcing  the  death  of  his  father,  made 
a  brief  visit  to  the  family,  and  returned,  bringing 
an  old  friend,  Best.  Best  was  enjoying  himself 
greatly.  Indeed  Graham  was  a  good  entertainer. 
In  his  house  he  kept  a  native  and  his  wife,  who 
looked  after  all  household  details  there.  He  had 
a  stable  containing  one  or  two  saddle  horses  besides 
driving  horses,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  months 
of  the  early  year  they  had  spent  roaming  about  the 
alternately  fertile  and  barren  volcanic  island.  There 
was  enough  zest  and  newness  in  the  life  to  keep 
Best  from  growing  torpid,  while  Graham's  cares 
were  always  confining  enough  to  give  him  little 
time  for  dissatisfaction.  At  night  when  the  labors 
of  the  day  had  been  completed,  these  two  friends 
sat  on  the  veranda,  smoked  and  talked  of  the  past 
and  future;  but  more  of  the  future,  for  it  is  left 
to  old  men  to  talk  of  the  past. 

One  particular  evening  they  had  concluded  to  for- 

13 


194          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

bear  the  moonlight  ride  they  had  so  much  enjoyed 
during  this  full  of  the  moon,  and  instead  sat  on 
the  veranda  and  enjoyed  conversation.  For  a  time 
they  smoked  in  silence,  each  in  his  own  way  content 
with  his  thoughts,  and  listening  to  the  voices  of  the 
natives  as  the  belated  ones  came  in  from  the  cane 
fields,  singing  sweet  cadenced  songs  in  low  and 
gentle  French,  now  singly,  now  in  chorus.  The 
melody  of  these  negro  voices,  with  the  oft  inter 
jected  minors  seemed  harmonious  with  the  southern 
moonlight  and  the  soft,  sweet-scented  winds  that 
blew  inland  from  the  sea. 

Best  broke  the  silence. 

"  It's  an  ideal  existence  you  live  here,  Harold," 
he  said,  "  one  that  I  should  like  to  follow  myself, 
I  think."  The  other  smiled,  feeling  secure  Best 
would  not  see  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  I  like  it,  yet  as  for  you, 
you  have  never  done  anything  in  this  line  and  a 
year  or  two  would  be  your  limit  here  in  this  climate 
and  without  friends." 

"Do  you  intend  to  spend  your  life  here?"  Best 
asked.  "  I  should  not  care  to  do  that,  yet  a  few 
years,  especially  when  one  is  prospering  as  you  are, 
would  not  be  so  bad. 

"  No,  that  is  it.  The  prosperity  with  plenty 
to  do  makes  it  bearable.  Just  now  I  have  no  other 
thought  save  of  staying  here.  There  is  nothing  for 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          195 

me  in  New  York  now  that  my  parents  are  dead, 
yet  had  my  father's  later  days  been  different,  I 
should  have  followed  him  in  the  bank." 

"  Yes,"  the  other  said  as  if  to  draw  him  out. 
"  I  remember  when  your  father  retired  from  that 
institution.  The  reason  never  came  to  light  I  think, 
yet  no  one  doubted  his  integrity." 

"  No,  there  was  no  question  as  to  that.  .  Father 
retired  of  his  own  volition,  the  victim  of  another's 
perfidy." 

"  Tell  me  about  it." 

"  It  is  hardly  worth  while,  yet  I  will.  During 
a  temporary  depression  of  the  stock  market,  a  de 
pression  that  lasted  but  a  day  or  two,  the  bank 
found  itself  insolvent.  The  market  righted  itself 
at  once  and  the  matter  was  adjusted.  Yet  a  clerk 
in  the  bank's  employ,  one  who  had  kept  the  books 
that  told  of  the  investments,  shrewd  fellow  that  he 
was,  computed,  it  seems,  the  losses  and  knew  of  the 
insolvency.  He  was  caught  speculating  afterward, 
using  the  information  he  acquired  by  observation, 
and  was  discharged.  Afterward  he  was  appointed 
sole  executor  of  a  large  estate, — some  old  friend, 
I  believe, — and  was  made  guardian  of  a  child  whose 
name  I  do  not  remember.  He  again  found  favor 
with  father  later  and  deposited  the  funds  of  the 
estate  in  the  bank.  He  at  once  formulated  a  scheme 
whereby  to  defraud  the  infant  and  was  so  bold  as 


196         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

to  intimate  what  he  intended  to  father,  who  pro 
tested  and  threatened  exposure.  Making  use  of  his 
knowledge  of  the  bank's  embarrassment  which  I 
have  mentioned,  he  threatened  to  expose  the  bank 
and  father's  connection  with  it.  Paying  no  heed 
to  the  threat,  father  again  warned  him  that  if  his 
atrocious  plot  were  carried  out  he  would  interpose 
the  law.  Then  it  was  that  the  man  spoke  of  my 
own  chances  and  opportunities  being  ruined  and 
lost  in  the  indignation  that  would  follow.  Father 
had  never  considered  the  act  criminal  before,  but 
the  man  seemed  capable  of  accentuating  the  appear 
ance  of  the  offence  and  the  results  that  would  be 
visited  on  me,  his  son.  A  strong  card  indeed  was 
played  in  this,  and  father  yielded  and  for  my  sake 
agreed  to  keep  the  other  man's  secret. 

"  Withdrawing  all  his  money  and  securities  the 
man  disappeared,  leaving  father  the  prey  of  evil 
fancies.  These  grew  upon  him  and  after  a  year 
or  two  he  felt  compelled  to  resign,  not  feeling  him 
self  to  be  wrong  save  that  he  had  allowed  another 
to  commit  a  great  crime,  that  of  robbing  a  child, 
but  believing  that  he  was  an  accessory. 

"  Although  he  lived  a  few  years  after  this,  yet 
it  was  his  death-blow,  for  it  took  from  him  all  the 
enjoyment  that  an  old  age  should  have  had  in  store 
for  him.  Only  one  idea  kept  him  up,  that  of  run 
ning  down  this  man  and  punishing  him.  He  spent 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.  197 

much  time  and  money,  but  was  never  able  to  find 
him.  Many  times  he  requested  me  to  continue  the 
search  and  I  am  doing  so  at  present.  A  detective 
agency  in  New  York  has  it  now  in  charge,  with 
no  result  as  yet,  but  I  shall  find  him.  His  crime 
that  brought  suffering  to  my  father  shall  not  go 
unavenged." 

"  And  what  of  the  girl  ?  "  asked  Best. 

"  Some  securities  were  deposited  in  the  bank 
in  her  name.  How  this  came  I  never  heard. 
Father  took  this  matter  in  charge  and  saw  that  the 
investment  was  good.  Now  they  have  increased 
in  value  several  times  I  believe,  and  though  she 
should  never  recover  the  bulk  of  her  fortune  that 
was  stolen,  yet  here  alone  a  goodly  amount  awaits 
her.  After  I  find  him  I  shall  search  for  her." 

"  Should  you  not  find  him,  what  then?" 

"  Then  God  above,  who  at  last  repays  all  venge 
ance,  will  do  the  work." 

"What  is  this  man's  name?" 

"  Herbert  Durand." 

"  I  have  never  heard  of  him." 

"  Probably  not."  Graham  ceased  talking  and 
for  a  time  looked  out  upon  the  moonlit  landscape. 

"  Come,"  said  Best.  "  Let  us  talk  of  other 
things.  I  was  thinking  a  while  ago  that  if  I  were 
you  I  would  not  spend  life  in  this  ideal  way  alone. 
I  would  marry.  Why  don't  you?  " 


198          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Graham  did  not  reply  at  once.  Finally  he  said, 
"  I  have  thought  of  it." 

"  I  dare  say,"  said  Best  jokingly.  "  Who  is  she, 
some  society  girl  of  New  York  whom  you  would 
ask  to  come  here  and  forbear  her  rounds  of  pleas 
ure,  or  some  native  Martinique  maiden  whose  great 
grandfather  was  French  and  who  bears  his  com 
plexion?  I  have  heard  that  the  Martinique  belles 
are  the  most  beautiful  women  in  the  world.  Say, 
why  not  one  of  them?  "  he  finished,  laughingly. 

The  other  joined  in  the  laugh.  "  Yes,"  he  said, 
"  these  women  here  are  straight  of  limb,  proud,  im 
perious  and  of  the  most  beautiful  figures  I  have  ever 
seen.  Hardly  would  I  marry  one,  and  yet  in  some 
respects  they  are  more  wholesome  than  a  burned- 
out  society  woman,  even  though  the  native  belles 
lack  morals." 

"  So  I  have  heard." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that  is  true.  St.  Pierre," — here 
he  waved  his  hand  toward  the  city  whose  electric 
lights  could  be  dimly  seen  in  the  distance, — "  is 
said  to  be  the  most  immoral  and  wicked  city  in  the 
whole  world." 

"  In  what  respect  ?  " 

"  In  all  respects.  Gambling,  immorality,  and  in 
fact  all  the  vices  conceivable.  Here  it  is  said  that 
the  irreligious  who  worship  the  Devil  gather  in  a 
building  they  call  the  Temple  to  worship  Satan. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          199 

This  building  I  have  seen  and  know  the  location 
well.  Yet  I  could  not  vouch  for  the  story,  as  I 
have  never  been  inside  to  see  the  great  idol  of  Satan 
there.  Yet  this  story  goes  as  authenticated." 

"  I  should  like  to  explore  this  temple  during  the 
worship." 

"  Yes,  so  would  I,  but  we  never  will.  It  seems 
strange  that  God  allows  such  blasphemy,  doesn't 
it?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Best.  "  It  does  to  me,  and  I  am 
not  as  deeply  religious  as  you  either.  But  of  this 
wife  I  want  you  to  marry,  where  shall  we  find 
her?" 

Graham  smiled.     "Yes,"  he  said,  "where?" 

"Do  you  not  know  a  maiden  well  favored  in  face 
and  purse?  "  teasingly  asked  Best. 

"  No,  I  know  of  none  such,"  lightly  returned 
Graham.  He  continued,  "  I  never  have  met  a  wo 
man  I  thought  of  marrying." 

"Why  this  emphasis  on  the  word  *met'? 
Perhaps  you  have  seen  one,  loved  her  from  a  dis 
tance.  You  know  they  do  it  in  story-books.  Why 
not  you?  By  Jove,  your  face  is  growing  grave.  I 
can  see  this  by  the  moonlight.  Tell  me  of  it,  of 
her.  Don't  deny  it,  but  tell  me  at  once." 

Slowly  Graham  began  to  speak,  "  You  ask  me," 
he  said,  "  to  tell  you  about  a  matter  of  which  there 
is  little  to  tell.  It  is  true  I  have  thought  of 


200          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

marrying,  but  there  was  no  one  on  whom  to  lavish 
my  affections.  Shut  out  from  the  world,  socially, 
I  have  only  business  relations  with  the  world  at 
large.  I  come  in  contact  with  few  women.  Not 
that  I  lament  this  fact,  for  I  have  not  spent  sleep 
less  nights  over  the  matter.  Yet  one  day  there 
came  before  my  eyes  a  beautiful  maiden,  whose 
face  and  form  I  merely  saw  as  it  were  in  a  maze, 
and  then  it  floated  from  me.  You  know  I  am  not 
given  to  sentimental  emotions,  yet  as  I  saw  her  I 
longed  to  know  her,  longed  to  meet  and  even  court 
her,  for  I  felt  within  me  a  new  feeling  that  was 
never  there  before." 

"  Why  did  you  not  meet  her  later  and  become 
better  acquainted?  You  could  not  hope  to  win  her 
from  a  distance?" 

"  That  is  it.  I  have  searched  for  her  since  in 
vain." 

"  Ha,  ha,  old  man,  don't  try  to  make  me  think 
you  have  a  light  attack,  for  I  can  see  differently. 
Where  did  you  see  her.  Tell  me  at  once." 

"  In  the  cathedral  at  St.  Pierre." 

"  In  the  cathedral  ?  You  have  not  become  a 
Catholic,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,  but  the  Protestant  societies  here  are  a 
minus  quantity,  so  occasionally  I  go  to  the  cathe 
dral.  I  enjoy  it  too  in  a  way." 

"  But  of  the  girl :     You  saw  her  there?  " 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          201 

"  Yes,  one  Sunday  morning  I  rode  into  the  city, 
and  wandering  about,  entered  the  cathedral.  I  paid 
some  attention  to  the  service,  but  more  perhaps  to 
the  beautiful  sculptural  work  at  the  sides  and  about 
the  altar,  looked  over  the  beautiful  stained  windows, 
or  at  the  decorations  of  the  antique  church.  Some 
of  the  sculptural  work  was  donated  by  the  Empress 
Josephine  after  ascending  the  throne,  in  memory 
of  the  land  and  city  of  her  birth,  for  she  was  from 
here,  and  she  attended  service  in  this  cathedral.  As 
I  gazed  about  I  saw  seated  nearly  opposite  me  and 
at  the  extreme  side  of  the  church  a  young  girl  of 
not  more  than  twenty  years,  whose  face  I  have 
not  forgotten  and  never  will.  Like  myself  she  paid 
little  heed  to  the  service  and  gazed  about  idly,  giv 
ing  me  a  chance  to  see  and  study  her.  A  white 
transparent  skin  was  hers,  with  eyes  and  hair  as 
dark  as  the  night.  I  first  thought  her  a  half  French 
half  Martiniquan  until  her  fine,  delicate  and  straight 
features  denied  this.  These  features  were  the  most 
perfect  I  have  ever  looked  upon,  every  line  being 
in  harmonious  blending  with  some  other  perfect 
line,  from  the  pointed  chin,  the  finely  formed  nose 
with  its  thin  nostrils,  to  the  high  and  wide  fore 
head  that  overshadowed  those  lustrous  eyes.  Talk 
about  the  sweep  of  long  and  dark  eyelashes !  There 
was  simply  magic  in  the  way  she  opened  and 
closed  those  eyes.  As  I  gazed  upon  her,  as  if  re- 


202          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

ceiving  the  mental  impression  that  I  wished  her  to 
look  my  way  she  turned  those  eyes  upon  me  for 
an  instant.  Never  before  did  I  experience  anything 
like  the  enthralling  sensation  that  was  mine.  And 
she,  as  if  answering  my  message  to  her,  flushed 
slightly  and  turned  away  her  gaze." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Best.  "  She  was  pleased  with 
you.  Those  blushes  were  proof  positive  symptoms." 

Paying  no  attention  to  the  good-natured  banter- 
ings  of  his  friend,  he  continued.  "  She  was  the 
most  perfect  type  of  beauty  I  have  ever  seen  and 
I  resolved  then  and  there  to  know  her.  Yes,  Best, 
I  make  a  confidant  of  you, — I  even  resolved  to 
marry  her." 

"A  Catholic?" 

"  Yes,  if  it  should  so  prove,  but  she  is  not,  I  am 
sure." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,  she  took  no-  more  part  in  the  service  than 
I.  Let  me  finish.  As  the  service  ended  I  waited  in 
the  vestibule,  allowing  her  to  precede  me,  thinking 
I  would  follow  and  learn  where  she  lived.  Not 
caring  to  be  seen  following  her,  should  she  again 
notice  me,  I  drew  back  a  bit  and  waited  for  her 
to  take  the  lead.  A  Mother  Superior,  with  nuns  and 
children  came  then,  and  after  them  I  stepped  out. 
The  central  figure  of  my  dreams  had  vanished.  I 
looked  in  vain  this  way  and  that.  She  was  not  to 
be  seen." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          203 

"Had  she  not  entered  some  nearby  house?" 

"  No,  there  is  none  near  excepting  the  convent, 
and  she  would  not  have  gone  there,  else  she  must 
be  a  Catholic  and  would  follow  the  prayers." 

"  But  the  earth  did  not  open  and  swallow  her. 
She  lives  near  the  Cathedral  no  doubt." 

"  I  have  frequented  that  locality  repeatedly.  I 
have  attended  service  at  the  Cathedral  since,  but  I 
have  not  been  favored  with  a  sight  of  her  as  yet. 
I  have  about  given  up  the  hope  of  seeing  her 
again." 

"  Nonsense.  The  world  is  small.  What  one  can 
not  find  another,  especially  a  lover  in  search  of  his 
affinity?"  He  laughed.  "And  Martinique  is 
smaller  than  the  balance  of  the  world.  You  expect 
to  find  this  man,  Durand,  you  mention  and  the  girl 
he  wronged.  Why  not  then  this  girl?  Cheer  up. 
I  will  help  you  find  her." 


204          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER    II. 

ONE  morning  three  weeks  later,  as  they  arose 
from  the  breakfast  table  and  walked  out  to  the 
veranda,  Graham  said,  "  Frank,  the  weather  seems 
delightful  to-day,  and  as  I  have  promised  you  an 
outing  on  Mount  Pelee,  why  not  go  to-day?  I 
will  have  a  lunch  put  up  for  us  to  carry  along  and 
we  will  picnic  far  up  the  mountain-side,  as  do  many 
from  the  city." 

"  Agreed,"  said  the  other,  and  they  set  about 
the  preparation.  An  hour  later  in  a  light  wagon, 
with  a  large  basket  under  the  seat,  they  started 
forth. 

Winding  down  a  beautiful  valley,  over  a  fine 
roadway  built  from  the  volcanic  rock  of  the  moun 
tains  they  were  to  visit,  they  came  near  the  city, 
when  they  turned  to  the  right  and  pulling  the  horse 
down  to  a  walk  commenced  the  ascent  of  the  vol 
cano  that  later  was  destined  to  make  it  a  name  to 
be  dreaded.  They  covered  the  foothills,  driving 
a  few  hundred  rods  up  the  mountain  proper,  through 
a  forest  on  either  side,  and  at  last  came  to  where 
the  ascent  was  precipitous.  Here  they  tied  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          205 

horse  to  a  sapling  after  feeding  it  generously  from 
the  grain  brought  along  for  that  purpose.  An  hour 
later  they  stood  on  an  eminence  to  the  right  of  the 
crater  but  above  it  and  looked  1600  feet  down  on 
the  lake  formed  by  the  basin  of  the  crater  proper, 
and  filled  by  the  rains. 

"  A  nasty  hole,"  said  Best.  "  What  would  hap 
pen  if  this  volcano  became  active,  should  have  an 
eruption  in  fact  ?  " 

Graham  looked  down  on  the  city  of  St.  Pierre  at 
its  feet  and  replied,  "  Another  Pompeiian  cataclysm. 
Let  us  hope  it  will  not  occur." 

"  Yet  this  mountain  has  erupted  in  the  past.  It 
might  again." 

"If  it  did  I  would  believe  it  to  be  a  visitation 
of  God  upon  this  most  sinful  city." 

"  Those  Devil  people  might  get  scorched,"  re 
plied  Best.  "  Let  us  hope  your  friend  of  the  raven 
locks  would  escape." 

Graham  was  silent  at  this.  He  did  not  enjoy  her 
name  being  coupled  with  even  an  innocent  joke. 

They  loosed  large  stones  from  the  crust  of  the 
crater,  stones  that  had  been  cast  up  from  the  in 
terior  at  a  past  date  \vhen  the  volcano  was  active, 
and  saw  them  slide  down  the  incline,  and  plunge 
into  the  water  far  below.  They  detected  sulphur 
ous  odors,  strong  at  first,  but  gradually  disappear- 
ing." 


206          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"What  of  that?"  asked  Best.  "I  thought  this 
mountain  to  be  quiet  now." 

"  So  it  has  been  since  1851.  Then  it  spouted 
a  bit  and  has  been  good  ever  since.  However,  I 
have  been  here  before  and  did  not  notice  those 
sulphurous  odors  then,  neither  have  I  heard  it  men 
tioned.  Shall  we  not  descend  now  and  have  our 
lunch?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  hungry  too." 

Slowly  they  went  down  the  mountain  slope,  stop 
ping  occasionally  and  looking  over  the  scene  before 
them.  Graham  had  brought  along  a  field  glass  and 
with  it  they  saw  Morne  Rouge  and  Fort  de  France 
plainly,  towns  that  were  from  six  to  eight  miles 
away,  while  out  at  sea  they  saw  several  vessels, 
some  leaving  watery  space  between  them  and  the 
island,  some  making  for  the  roadstead  whose  waters 
licked  the  dusty  streets  of  St.  Pierre;  saw  the 
acres  upon  acres  of  cane,  which  now  in  the  month 
of  April  was  several  feet  high,  and  bade  fair  to  fur 
nish  an  abundance  against  the  time  of  garnering 
and  crushing.  They  were  nearly  back  to  the  place 
where  the  horse  and  lunch  had  been  left  when  they 
heard  many  voices,  chattering  and  talking,  voices 
of  children. 

"  A  picnic,"  said  Graham.  "  These  natives  have 
many  days  of  pleasure  in  this  way  and  the  face  of 
the  old  mountains  is  a  favorite  resort  for  them. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          207 

Here  the  cooling  breezes  are  a  relief  from  the 
tropical  heat  below." 

They  were  now  making  their  way  down  a  moun 
tain  path  through  the  forest.  This  path  opened 
directly  into  a  clearing.  Graham  took  Best's  arm 
and  they  stepped  aside  from  the  path,  and  gaining 
the  edge  of  the  clearing  looked  out  upon  those 
who  were  so  loudly  enjoying  themselves. 

They  saw  before  them  a  bevy  of  little  girls, 
ranging  in  color  from  the  fairest,  set  with  French 
features,  to  the  darkest  of  Ethiopian  colors,  all 
natives,  all  indigent,  and  given  food  and  shelter 
by  the  followers  of  Him  who  said,  "  Whosoever 
shall  give  unto  these  little  ones  a  cup  of  cold  water 
only,  shall  in  no  wise  lose  his  reward." 

Black-garbed  nuns  went  here  and  there  among 
the  children,  picking  flowers  and  wearing  wreaths 
that  the  children  had  placed  upon  their  heads  or 
garland-ropes  entwined  about  them.  These  nuns 
were  all  of  refined  or  Caucasian  features.  That  they 
came  from  the  North  revealed  the  great  love  they 
bore  for  their  calling, — else  why  bury  themselves 
in  this  foreign  isle  of  the  sea?  The  little  girls 
romped  and  played,  calling  on  the  sisters  for  in 
numerable  things,  to  which  they  gave  assent,  not 
showing  reluctance  to  yield. 

Nearly  opposite  where  our  friends  stood  and  in 
the  shade  of  the  edge  of  the  trees  that  fringed  the 


208          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

glade  were  seated  several  persons, — one  or  two 
nuns,  one  or  two  little  girls  who  refrained  from 
playing  with  the  others  that  they  might  seek  the 
shade  or  perhaps  were  tired  and  came  here  for  rest. 
Besides  these,  in  the  cloistered  garb  of  the  others, 
excepting  the  black  head-gear  in  place  of  white,  was 
a  woman  who,  as  she  raised  the  head-gear  that  she 
might  smooth  back  the  hair  from  the  temples,  gave 
the  opportunity  to  the  observers  to  see  that  the  hair 
was  slightly  gray,  although  the  face  was  youthful. 
Softened  and  almost  angelic  were  the  lines  of  that 
face,  while  in  expression  the  eyes  were  the  kindest. 

Altogether  it  was  the  face  of  one  who  lived  in 
ethereal,  ideal  and  simple  ways, — a  face  that  might 
have  gained  its  softness,  its  goodness  from  the  light 
of  a  spark  from  heaven.  The  nuns  addressed  her  as 
"  Abbess,"  the  children  as  "  Mother,"  so  we  may 
of  a  certainty  conclude  that  she  was  the  Mother 
Superior  of  the  convent  from  whence  they  came, 
the  spiritual  guide  and  mentor  of  those  about  her. 

Seated  at  her  feet  and  sewing  on  some  work  in 
her  lap,  sat  a  young  girl,  with  clear,  dark  skin, 
large  dark  eyes,  with  long  lashes.  Her  face  was 
beautiful,  and  like  the  other,  of  a  soft  and  inno 
cent  expression.  As  she  talked  to  the  Mother  she 
smiled  from  time  to  time  and  revealed  even,  small 
and  white  teeth  as  her  curved  lips  opened.  Yet  her 
dress  was  unlike  the  other's  in  that  in  place  of  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          209 

plain  black,  it  had  a  ruffle  or  two  about  the  bottom 
and  a  bow  of  pink  at  the  throat.  Her  hair  was  ar 
ranged  in  a  coil  at  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and  parted 
a  little  to  the  left  of  the  center. 

Graham  and  Best  made  their  way  across  the 
clearing  and  arranged  to  come  a  little  above  the 
party  so  as  not  to  annoy  or  give  the  impression 
that  they  were  bent  on  curiously  scrutinizing  them. 
They  found  the  horse  and  from  the  wagon  ex 
tracted  the  basket,  and  entering  the  wood  a  bit 
farther  found  a  fallen  tree  on  which  they  sat.  Gra 
ham  produced  from  the  interior  of  the  basket  trop 
ical,  native  fruit,  together  with  sandwiches,  pickles, 
olives  and  cakes.  As  they  lunched  Best  again  re 
ferred  to  the  subject  of  Mount  Pelee  and  the  dam 
age  that  would  accrue  should  it  erupt.  They  talked 
of  the  presence  of  the  sulphurous  gases  that  every 
now  and  then  they  could  scent. 

"  Eighteen  thousand  souls  are  in  the  city  below, 
and  twelve  thousand  more  in  the  suburbs,"  said 
Graham.  "  In  case  of  a  violent  eruption  .nothing 
could  save  them.  As  for  our  plantation,  by  dis 
tance  we  are  undoubtedly  safe  so  far  as  Pelee  is 
concerned." 

From  their  dining  place  they  could  yet  hear  the 

prattle  of  the  children,  could  even  see  indistinctly  the 

group  under  the  tree  nearby,  not  that  they  watched 

this   group,   yet    from   their   retreat   they   saw   the 

14 


210          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

young  lady  whom  we  have  described  as  being- 
dressed  otherwise  than  the  rest,  wander  from  the 
party  and  come  slowly  and  at  right  angles  to  them 
and  the  lower  end  of  the  glade.  Graham  knew  of 
a  certain  partially  rocky  eminence  that  lay  in  this 
direction  and  from  which  as  good  a  view  could  be 
obtained  as  from  the  highest  point  above,  and 
thought  she  was  coming  to  that  place.  He  had 
scarcely  noted  her  or  any  of  the  party,  thinking  it 
would  seem  rude  to  do  so;  yet  he  wondered  who  this 
young  woman  was  and  why  she  was  here  with  these 
people.  Then  he  returned  to  the  conversation  with 
Best,  dismissing  her  from  his  mind. 

A  few  minutes  later  a  most  piercing  shriek  came 
through  the  trees,  a  scream  that  reverberated  from 
the  mountain,  enhancing  the  utter  distress  it  car 
ried.  Both  men  were  on  their  feet  at  once  and 
rushed  out  into  the  clearing. 

They  beheld  the  young  woman  on  the  top  of  a 
half  round  boulder  that  capped  the  other  rocks 
forming  the  eminence.  She  was  quaking  with  fear, 
jumping  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  the  small 
stone  platform,  and  giving  out  shrieks  of  distress 
at  every  jump. 

"  A  fer-de-lance,"  said  Graham,  as  he  snatched  up 
a  limb  of  a  fallen  tree  that  had  broken  the  right 
length  to  be  wieldy.  Running  toward  the  place 
he  saw  the  Abbess  doing  likewise.  A  nun  followed 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          211 

her,  and  others  dropped  on  their  knees  in  prayer. 
The  children  looked  on  in  silence,  their  voices 
ceasing  at  the  sound  of  danger. 

Clearing  the  ten  rods  that  separated  them,  Gra 
ham  leaped  up  to  the  natural  pyramid  of  rocks,  and 
coming  to  the  top  he  saw  the  deadly  snake,  a  huge 
fellow  more  than  five  feet  long,  rear  himself  up  the 
side  of  the  rock  on  which  the  girl  stood.  The 
height  was  too  great  for  it  to  damage  the  girl  or 
the  smooth  face  of  the  rock  offered  no  foothold  to 
which  its  body  might  adhere.  Each  time  it  fell  back 
it  sprang  again,  and  although  the  chances  are  that 
each  effort  would  have  fallen  a  bit  short  of  the 
former  one,  yet  had  it  secured  a  hold,  the  fangs 
once  fastened  in  the  flesh  of  the  young  woman 
meant  certain  death. 

Taking  it  all  in,  as  he  ran,  Graham  gave  no 
thought  to  his  own  safety.  Swinging  his  club,  he 
brought  it  down  with  heroic  force  and  the  fer-de- 
lance  lay  crushed  and  dying  on  the  rocks.  The 
girl  who  was  rescued  did  what  they  usually  do  in 
fact  and  in  fiction,  fainted.  Graham  saw  her  body 
sway  as  he  had  dispatched  the  serpent.  He  threw 
aside  his  club  and  caught  the  falling  woman  in  his 
arms.  Descending  the  natural  cairn,  he  reached 
the  ground  as  the  others,  including  Best,  came  up. 

"  She  is  not  harmed?  "  asked  the  Abbess  in  great 
distress.  Her  fine  English  surprised  Graham. 


212          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  No,"  said  Graham,  "  only  faint." 

"  Thanks  to  you  and  the  Blessed  Virgin,"  said 
the  Abbess.  The  other  nuns  bowed  their  heads 
and  uttered  prayers  of  thanks. 

Graham  laid  the  girl  down  on  the  ground,  plac 
ing  a  stone  under  her  feet,  thus  elevating  them 
so  that  the  flow  of  blood  to  the  brain  might  expedite 
the  return  to  consciousness.  Then  for  the  first  time 
he  looked  into  her  face.  He  turned  nearly  as  white 
as  the  prostrate  one  before  him.  For  a  moment 
he  lost  himself,  then  turned  and  looked  knowingly 
at  Best.  Best  looked  at  the  girl,  noted  her  hair  and 
skin,  and  understood.  This  was  the  girl  of  Gra 
ham's  dreams,  she  who  had  flitted  across  his  path 
way  and  was  gone;  now  to  return  in  this  manner. 

Of  all  present,  Harold  Graham  was  the  most  ex 
cited,  the  most  interested  now.  As  the  truth  of  the 
identity  of  this  person  came  to  him,  his  zeal  in  her 
behalf  doubled.  He  grasped  her  wrist  and  felt  the 
pulse  quickly.  Then  he  ran  to  the  edge  of  the 
wood  to  the  basket,  and  returned  with  a  flask  of 
brandy  and  a  glass.  But  ere  he  had  time  to  dis 
pense  the  brandy  her  consciousness  returned.  She 
opened  her  eyes  as  Graham  returned,  looked  about 
her  for  a  moment,  then  closed  them  again.  Gra 
ham  placed  the  flask  to  her  mouth,  as  he  dropped 
on  his  knees  at  her  side.  Consciousness  speedily 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          213 

returned  to  her,  her  strong  young  body  assisting. 
She  looked  around  her  and  made  an  effort  to  arise. 
Graham  assisted  her,  and  placed  his  arm  about  her 
shoulders.  Her  knees  were  a  bit  shaky  at  first  and 
he  steadied  her. 

All  this  time  the  Mother  and  the  others  had 
merely  looked  on,  the  suddenness  of  the  affair,  the 
nearness  to  death  appalled  them,  while  the  earnest 
solicitude  of  Graham  was  surprising  and  a  feature 
that  a  nun  above  all  people  would  fail  to  appreciate. 
The  Abbess  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  We  owe  you  much,  sir,"  she  said,  addressing 
Graham,  "  for  which  we  can  never  hope  to  repay 
you  unless  you  appreciate  our  gratitude  as  we  ap 
preciate  your  goodness  and  bravery." 

"  It  is  all  I  ask,  and  more  than  I  deserve,  yet 
knowing  that  I  have  gained  favor  with  any  one  is 
indeed  compensation  enough.  I  am  glad  to  have 
been  able  to  serve  you,  however  slight  may  be  the 
service." 

"Slight,  sir,  did  you  say?  You  saved  my  life. 
To  die  from  the  bite  of  that  loathsome  serpent," 
and  she  glanced  up  on  the  rocks  at  the  dead  snake. 
"  Oh  !  Oh !  "  and  she  shuddered  from  head  to  foot. 

Recovering  herself  she  looked  full  into  Graham's 
face  and  he  returned  the  gaze.  He  had  just  been 
thinking  what  a  charming  voice  and  manner  she 


214          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

had,  devoid  of  shyness,  and  the  charms  of  her  voice, 
the  fervency  of  her  words  struck  a  responsive  chord 
in  him.  As  he  looked  at  her,  and  she  at  him,  a 
gentle  flush  stole  over  her,  effacing  the  paleness 
that  was  there  a  moment  previous.  As  for  him  his 
usual  equanimity  was  disturbed  for  a  moment.  He 
felt  that  she  had  just  recognized  in  him  the  one  who 
had  gazed  upon  her  in  church  with  an  intensity  that 
was  almost  rudeness.  He  cared  not  now  that  she 
knew  he  admired  her  then,  but  somehow  he  felt  that 
this  Abbess  was  her  monitor  and  as  such  was  to  be 
considered  and  reckoned  with,  and  he  almost  feared 
she  would  interpret  the  blushes,  and  understanding, 
place  obstacles  in  their  future  pathway.  He  turned 
suddenly  upon  the  Abbess  to  observe  her  interest 
and  he  saw  that  her  eyes  were  upon  the  girl,  in 
tently  gazing  upon  her.  It  was  plain  that  the  Ab 
bess  was  surprised  at  the  girl's  blushes  and  could 
not  understand.  Graham  mentally  calculated  that 
she  was  a  sort  of  prioress  over  the  girl  and  forbade 
her  outside  society. 

For  a  moment  he  made  mental  observations,  then 
from  his  pocket  took  his  card  and  presented  it  to 
the  girl.  She  gazed  upon  it,  again  flushing  and 
raising  her  eyes  said,  "  My  name  is  Olive  James." 

Then  she  turned  and  glanced  at  his  card  again, 
and  presented  him  to  the  Abbess  and  the  nuns. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          215 

Graham  then  presented  his  friend  Best.  As  the 
Abbess  heard  the  name  Graham  she  turned  and 
looked  scrutinizingly  into  his  face.  He  stood  the 
ordeal  finely,  but  believed  the  glance  to  be  one  of 
resentment  rather  than  interest. 


216         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THAT  evening  Graham  and  his  friend  sat  on  the 
porch  again.  Graham  was  especially  silent.  Best 
noticed  his  reticence,  and  after  a  time  said,  "  Come, 
Harold,  cheer  up." 

"  I  am  not  cheerless." 

"  No,  why  should  you  be,  you  have  seen  her 
again;  have  even  learned  her  name  and  it  is  safe 
to  say  learned  where  she  lives." 

"  No,"  said  the  other.  We  did  not  learn  where 
she  lives." 

"  Not  in  as  many  words,  but  she  is  a  protege  of 
the  Abbess  of  course,  and  I'll  wager  lives  at  the 
convent  you  mentioned.  Wrell !  well !  I  told  you 
I  would  help  you  find  her.  I  have,  for  you  would 
not  have  been  on  Mount  Pelee  to-day  had  it  not 
been  that  you  took  me  sightseeing.  I  have  brought 
you  luck.  I  will  again.  You  may  see  her  yet  and 
if  necessary  when  the  Abbess  will  not  be  nigh  to 
frighten  you.  I  noticed  her  as  she  looked  you 
over,  yet  I  failed  to  see  any  expression  of  great  dis 
approval  on  her  face." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          217 

"  It  was  there  though,  and  with  her  disapproval 
the  case  looks  most  discouraging." 

"  Nonsense." 

"  Why,  who  ever  heard  of  visiting  a  young  lady 
at  a  convent  if  the  Abbess  did  or  did  not  frown  on 
the  man?  Whoever  heard  of  courting  a  girl  from 
a  convent? 

" '  Courting '  is  a  good  word,"  laughed  Best. 
"  Court  you  call  it.  Well  you  are  indeed  in  love ; 
yet  I  would  advise  you  to  assume  more  up-to-date 
terms  to  express  your  feelings.  Why  not  say  to 
win  the  tender  feelings  of  the  lady  in  question,  or 
to  enter  on  a  contest  to  establish  yourself  in  her 
heart.  '  Court '  and  '  make  love  '  are  old  style  and 
not  used  in  polite  society  of  which  you  were  once 
a  member." 

"  This  is  no  joke,  Frank,  and  I  want  you  to  be 
lieve  me  serious." 

"  I  do." 

"  Then  tell  me  how  you  can  help  me." 

"  Well,  you  really  believe  the  Abbess  to  be 
against  you? " 

"  As  a  suitor  for  the  young  lady's  hand,  I  am 
afraid  she  would  be." 

"  There,  '  suitor  for  the  young  lady's  hand  '  is  a 
good  deal  better,  yet  you  are  assuming  much  re 
garding  the  Abbess.  I  will  admit  that  courting  a 


218          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

girl  in  a  convent  has  its  disadvantages,  but  I  am 
sure  I  can  assist  you  nevertheless." 

"Pray  how?" 

"  Why,  easy  enough,  have  you  enter  the  con 
vent."  Best  smiled  at  his  own  thoughts. 

"  Are  you  sane,  man?  " 

"  Yes,  perfectly,  and  to-morrow,  with  your  con 
veyance  and  consent,  I  will  drive  to  St.  Pierre  and 
look  over  the  lay  of  the  land  and  conclude  what  can 
be  done  for  you." 

The  next  morning  after  breakfast  Best  reminded 
Harold  of  his  promise  to  assist  him,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  was  on  the  road  to  St.  Pierre.  As 
he  drove  along,  he  thought  of  schemes  as  promul 
gated  by  story-books,  that  fitted  the  case  in  hand. 
He  recalled  how  fair  ones  had  been  rescued  from 
impregnable  castles,  situated  on  high  cliffs  and  in 
accessible  to  their  lovers,  of  knights  gallant  who 
had  by  long  ladders  taken  maidens  they  loved  from 
windows  high  from  the  ground,  but  no  solution  of 
the  problems  before  him  presented  itself  or  seemed 
available.  Nor  had  he  formulated  any  way,  whereby 
Graham  and  the  girl,  who  had  introduced  herself 
as  Olive  James,  might  meet  without  the  scrutinizing 
eye  of  the  Abbess,  as  he  had  led  Graham  to  sup 
pose. 

The  fact  was  he  had  led  an  indolent  sort  of  life, 
loving  fun  and  excitement,  and  while  he  deeply 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          219 

respected  his  friend  and  really  wished  to  promote 
his  love  affairs,  yet  he  saw  in  the  possibilities  ahead 
chances  for  merriment  to  himself  as  promoter  and 
confidant.  He  really  was  going  to  the  city  in  hope 
of  seeing  the  girl  and  getting  from  her  certain  in 
formation  regarding  the  position  of  the  Abbess  as  to 
Graham,  or  at  least  to  view  the  convent,  looking 
over  the  lay  of  the  land,  as  he  said,  in  hopes  that 
plans  might  be  formulated  accordingly.  He  had 
great  hope  that  something  would  turn  up.  He  be 
lieved  it  would,  yet  he  knew  not  what. 

Leaving  his  horse  in  care  of  a  native,  with  in 
structions  that  it  be  driven  to  a  stable,  he  wandered 
about. 

He  walked  down  the  Rue  Victor  Hugo,  until  he 
came  to  the  beautiful  cathedral.  He  viewed  it  from 
the  outside  and  the  inside,  being  in  no  hurry,  hop 
ing  that  something  in  his  favor  would  develop.  A 
half  hour  later,  having  tired  of  the  picturesque  fa- 
gade,  the  plastic  and  carved  Madonnas,  he  remem 
bered  that  Graham  had  said  the  convent  was  near 
by  the  cathedral.  So  he  passed  outside.  On  closer 
observation,  he  found  the  cathedral  to  be  situated 
at  the  intersection  of  streets,  and  that  just  back 
on  the  side  street  was  the  deanery  where  he  sup 
posed  the  Bishop  resided.  Just  back  of  the  deanery 
and  a  little  further  down  the  side  street,  he  saw  a 
building  that  was  of  brick,  as  also  were  the  deanery 


220          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

and  cathedral.  Its  architectural  outlines  were  much 
the  same,  and  he  felt  it  to  be  the  convent  he  sought. 
Over  the  gateway  leading  to  it  was  inscribed  in 
French — St.  Mary's  Convent.  This  confirmed  his 
former  thought. 

Slowing  his  pace  he  viewed  the  convent  and 
grounds  as  he  walked.  He  beheld  a  large,  square 
two-story  building  some  fifty  feet  in  front,  \vhose 
depth  was  greater  than  its  width.  In  the  center 
was  a  door  of  oak,  massive  and  forbidding.  Steps 
of  stone  led  up  to  this  door.  A  walk  began  here 
and  ended  at  the  gateway. 

Further  on  Best  saw  the  grounds  were  spacious, 
saw  flower  gardens,  where  at  this  date  in  April 
tropical  flowers  were  in  bloom,  the  beds  being  laid 
out  in  artistic  and  peculiar  designs.  A  little  further 
he  saw  the  playground  where  the  children  romped, 
a  most  delightful  place,  shaded  by  mangoes  and 
royal  palms,  spacious,  cool  and  inviting. 

The  whole  ground  surrounding  the  convent  was 
enclosed  by  a  high  fence  of  iron  palings,  those  pal 
ings  being  separated  far  enough  to  admit  of  free 
sight  between.  He  walked  the  length  of  the  long 
grounds  and  retraced  his  steps.  As  he  passed  down, 
he  noticed  an  old  man  inside,  a  dusky  native,  who 
as  he  worked  about,  went  slowly  like  one  decrepit 
and  aged.  Best  knew  him  to  be  the  gardener.  As 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.         221 

he  came  back,  he  thought  best  to  address  him,  in 
the  hope  of  eliciting  from  him  some  information. 

He  addressed  him  in  French,  a  language  Best 
spoke  well  even  before  the  brushing  up  it  had  had 
since  his  visit  to  the  island. 

"  Good  morning." 

The  old  man  looked  about  and  seeing  Best 
grunted  a  reply  as  if  he  resented  the  intrusion  upon 
his  work  and  thoughts.  Best  knew  the  natives  to 
be  mild  mannered  and  gentle,  and  really  thought  the 
old  man  would,  perhaps,  limber  his  tongue  later, 
if  properly  approached. 

"  These  grounds  are  beautiful,"  said  Best. 

The  old  man  laid  down  the  spade  he  was  using 
and  came  toward  the  fence.  Best  knew  in  mention 
ing  the  beauty  of  the  grounds,  he  had  touched  a 
warm  spot  in  the  old  man's  heart.  The  old  man 
came  close  and  peered  out  between  the  palings  at 
him  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  the  garden  is  pretty." 

He  spoke  like  a  very  old  man  and  Best's  next 
question  was:  "  Have  you  tended  them  long?" 

"  Yes,  for  many  years,  more  than  forty,  I  think, 
yet  I  do  not  remember  as  I  once  did,  but  I  think 
it  must  be  over  forty  years." 

"  No  wonder  you  take  pride  in  keeping  them  up, 
having  been  here  so  long." 


222         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Not  that  alone  for  I  must  needs  work,  even 
though  nearly  a  century  old." 

"How  old?" 

"  Over  ninety,  yet  I  am  obliged  to  work." 

"  You  have  seen  many  changes  here  on  the  is 
land?" 

Best  felt  he  was  fast  gaining  the  old  man's  favor 
and  confidence.  He  would  draw  him  out  further. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I  have  seen  the 
trees  cut  down  and  burned  up  and  the  sugar  cane 
grow  in  its  place.  I  have  seen  St.  Pierre  grow 
from  a  few  houses  to  a  city  of  its  present  size." 

"  Do  you  remember  when  Pelee  erupted  ?  " 

"  I  do,  sir,  well.  Down  at  Fort  de  France  my  old 
father  and  mother  were  killed,  with  several  hun 
dred  others.  I  have  cause  to  remember  it." 

Best  was  struck  with  the  intelligence  of  the  native 
before  him.  It  was  far  above  that  of  the  average 
Martinique  he  had  met. 

"  You  are  educated  are  you  not  ?  "  was  his  next 
question.  "  You  speak  so  finely,  much  better  than 
others  I  have  met  here." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  gardener,  "  a  good  pere  taught 
me  to  read  and  write  many  years  ago  and  I  have 
ever  thanked  him  for  it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Best,  "  it  is  better  to  know  these 
things.  Where  do  you  live?" 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          223 

"  In  the  Rue  Bonaparte  down  near  the  harbor," 
was  answered." 

"  You  have  a  wife?  " 

"  Yes,  my  wife,  nearly  as  old  as  I  am,  is  still 
spared  me.  We  are  very  poor,  sir,  very  poor. 
Were  it  not  for  the  good  things  the  Abbess  here 
gives  me  we  would  want  often  for  enough  to  eat. 
My  wage  is  small  for  I  am  old  and  cannot  work 
much." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.  You  mention  the  Abbess. 
Has  she  been  here  long?" 

"  Some  years.  I  don't  remember  how  many. 
Things  far  back  I  remember  better  than  those  of 
recent  times." 

"  She  is  kind  then.  She  must  be  if  she  gives 
to  you  as  you  say." 

"  Aye,  aye,  very  kind.  So  are  all  the  sisters 
and  the  children  here.  Oh  I  love  those  children 
all,  and  I  have  seen  many  come  and  go  from  here 
in  my  time." 

"  Yes,  undoubtedly  children  stay  here  some  time 
don't  they?  The  other  day  I  saw  a  young  woman 
with  the  Abbess  who  is  no  longer  a  child,  a  young 
lady  in  fact,  with  black  eyes,  dark  hair,  white  skin. 
Do  you  know  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.     She  is  not  an  inmate  though." 

"Who  is  she?" 

"  I  know  her  well.     She  often  comes  out  under 


224          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  trees  while  I  work  and  we  visit.  It  makes  the 
work  light,  for  the  Abbess  and  nuns  are  forbidden 
to  talk  to  any  man  unless  necessary,  and  I  enjoy 
the  young  lady's  visits.  Ofttimes  she  goes  to  my 
home,  taking  the  things  the  Abbess  has  sent  us. 
Her  name  is  Olive  James." 

"  Where  did  she  come  from  ?  " 

"  From  New  York  with  the  Abbess,  who  was 
then  Sister  Celestine.  Since  then  the  old  Abbess 
died  and  she  was  chosen." 

"  This  girl  is  not  a  relative  of  the  Abbess  is 
she?" 

"  No." 

"You  are  a  Catholic  of  course?" 

"  Yes,  every  one  is  here." 

"Is  Olive  James  a  Catholic?" 

"  No,  I  forget  her." 

"And  she  lives  in  a  Catholic  convent?" 

"  Yes,  The  Abbess  was  once  a  Protestant  and 
she  forces  not  her  new  religion  on  the  girl,  at  least 
so  Olive  tells  me." 

"  The  Abbess  is  ever  watchful  of  her?  " 

He  did  not  seem  to  understand.  Best  changed 
the  question  a  bit. 

"  I  say  the  Abbess  takes  good  care  of  Olive?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  so  she  does  of  all  here." 

"  This  girl  has  no  company  that  the  French  term 
as  beaux  has  she?  " 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          225 

"  No,  not  any."  The  old  man  looked  curiously 
at  him.  Best  changed  the  subject. 

At  the  corner  of  the  fence  farthest  from  the  large 
entrance  he  had  noticed  a  small  gate  that  was  se 
curely  padlocked.  He  had  divined  that  this  was 
the  way  of  access  employed  by  the  old  man.  He 
grew  bold. 

"  Say,"  he  said.  "  You  go  out  and  in  here 
through  the  entrance  above,  don't  you?  "  motioning 
towards  the  large  gate. 

"  No,  I  use  the  little  gate  at  the  end  of  the 
grounds,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  one  mentioned. 

"  Such  a  little  gate  and  all  for  you,"  said  Best. 
"  It  is  so  small  I  should  think  you  would  forget 
to  lock  it  when  you  go  out  sometimes.  Don't  you  ?  " 

The  old  man  rather  timidly  admitted  that  since 
his  great  age  had  come  upon  him  he  had  once  or 
twice  forgotten  this  very  thing,  but  he  added, 
"  they,"  as  he  motioned  toward  the  convent,  "  they 
never  knew  it." 

"  That's  right.  They  don't  need  to  know  it  any 
way." 

Again  he  abruptly  changed  the  subject.  "  What 
are  you  doing  this  morning  with  the  spade  and 
hoe?" 

"  The  pests  of  my  life  are  moles.  I  was  digging 
one  out." 

"Moles,  what  is  a  mole?" 

15 


226          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  It  is  a  sort  of  rat  which  lives  in  the  ground." 

"  You  are  digging  out  the  mole  are  you  ?    Why  ?  " 

"  They  are  more  of  a  pest  than  the  fer  de  lance." 
Best  remembered  the  experience  with  the  fer  de 
lance.  "  They  dig  up  the  grass  and  the  plants  here 
and  they  burrow,  but  I  find  their  holes  and  dig 
them  out.  They  have  rooted  out  plants  and  hedges 
for  me  many  times." 

"  It  is  hard  work  to  dig  them  out?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Suppose  you  were  to  dig  one  out  and  in  the  end 
find  a  five  franc  piece  or  two  instead  of  a  mole?  " 

"  Don't  jest  with  an  old  man.  What  you  say  is 
impossible.  Moles'  holes  do  not  contain  silver  and 
gold." 

"  No,  but  suppose  you  did  find  such?  " 

The  old  man's  eyes  sparkled.  "  I, — I,"  he  falt 
ered,  "  should  be  pleased.  It  would  do  my  old  wife 
and  me  much  good." 

Having  drawn  from  the  old  man  his  story  of 
poverty  and  the  fact  that  money  would  be  most 
acceptable,  together  with  other  information,  Best 
said: 

"  Draw  close  to  the  fence  here.  I  want  to  speak 
with  you." 

The  old  man  pressed  expectantly  against  the  pal 
ing.  Best  went  on,  "  You  say  that  this  girl,  Olive 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          227 

James,  comes  out  here  each  day  in  the  shade  of  the 
palms,  and  that  you  see  her  ?  " 

"  I  do  and  talk  with  her." 

"  You  will  be  here  to-morrow.  I  will  also  be 
here  and  will  give  you  a  letter  you  are  to  hand  to 
her.  None  must  see  you,  none  must  know  of  it  save 
yourself.  If  you  do  this  I  will  give  you  a  five  franc 
piece." 

"  You  are  jesting.  No  one  would  pay  so  much 
for  so  slight  a  task.  You  would  not  pay  me." 

"  I  will  and  when  I  give  you  the  letter." 

"  I  cannot  believe  you  are  in  earnest.  Why 
should  you  pay  so  liberally  for  this  when  you  can 
not  know  this  girl,  else  why  would  you  ask  regard 
ing  her." 

"  I  do  know  her  and  I  want  the  letter  given  her. 
Will  you  do  it?" 

"  There  is  no  harm  in  it  if  you  know  her,"  so 
liloquized  the  old  man,  "  and  you  will  pay  me  when 
I  get  the  letter." 

"  No  harm  ?  Of  course  not,  and  I  will  pay  you 
then  as  I  said.  I  will  trust  you  even  though  you 
are  suspicious  of  me." 

"  I  will  do  as  you  ask." 

"  One  thing  more,"  said  Best.  "  You  sometimes 
forget  to  lock  that  gate  over  there  when  you  go 
out.  If  you  forget  to  lock  it  to-morrow  night  you 
will  get  another  five  franc  piece. 


228         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  I  am  very  old,  sir,  and  forgetful.  I  have  for 
gotten  that  gate  before  and  no  harm  came  of  it. 
I  will  again,"  was  the  cunning  answer  as  the  old 
man  smiled.  "  You  pay  well,  sir,  for  what  you 
ask,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  your  work  for  me  is  more  profitable  than 
digging  out  moles,  and  you  have  only  just  begun 
the  job.  There  is  more  to  follow." 

Telling  Graham  about  it  a  few  hours  later,  he 
added,  "  The  old  man  hunts  money  with  the  same 
vigor  he  hunts  moles." 

"  But,  man,"  said  Graham,  "  you  don't  mean  to 
tell  me  that  you  bribed  him  to  deliver  the  letter 
to  this  lady  and  to  leave  the  gate  unlocked  ?  " 

"  Precisely  what  I  did." 

"  It's  wrong,  wrong." 

"  Nonsense.  All's  fair  in  love  and  war,  you 
know." 

The  other  was  thoughtful.  Then  said :  "  And 
you  expect  me  to  hold  a  clandestine  meeting  with 
this  girl?  "  He  was  most  concise  as  to  his  deport 
ment,  and  almost  wished  Best  had  not  made  this 
arrangement. 

"Yes,  why  not?" 

"  Well,  it  hardly  comes  up  to  my  ideas  of  pro 
priety.  I  never  expected  to  win  a  wife  in  this  way." 

"  Win  a  wife!  Well,  you  are  using  strong  terms 
and  good  ones  too.  As  to  the  propriety  of  the  mat- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          229 

ter,  don't  worry  yourself.  Leave  the  worriment  of 
the  whole  affair  to  me.  You  just  go  ahead  and  win 
the  girl." 

"  Do  you  think  she  will  assent  to  this  clandestine 
meeting?  " 

"  Assent,  assent  ?  Yes.  Else  why  these  shy 
looks  at  you,  tinctured  with  blushes,  when  on  Mt. 
Pelee  the  other  day.  Clandestine?  Why,  you  talk 
as  though  it  were  a  dishonorable  transaction." 

"  Do  you  think  she  will  meet  me  as  you  pro 
pose?  " 

"  Certainly.  What  girl  reared  in  a  convent,  hear 
ing  all  her  life  of  the  wickedness  of  men,  would  not 
want  for  herself  a  little  experience  to  see  for  her 
self  if  the  wickedness  be  true?  She  will  meet  you 
all  right." 

"  Best,  do  you  think,  even  if  she  should  come, 
that  I  am  asking  something  compromising  of  her?  " 

"  No,  not  if  the  Abbess  is  against  you  as  you 
think.  As  to  it  compromising  the  lady,  her  honor 
and  future  are  in  your  hands." 

"  True,  and  I  shall  preserve  both  against  harm." 

"Good.    You  will  go  then?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You  are  a  brick  after  all.  I  was  afraid  you 
would  cavil." 


230          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  next  morning,  true  to  his  word,  Best  ap 
peared  in  the  locality  of  the  convent.  After  making 
sure  that  the  old  man  was  alone  and  few  were  pass 
ing  by,  he  walked  to  the  paling  opposite  and  called 
out: 

"  Good  morning,  my  friend.  How  do  you  feel 
to-day?" 

The  old  man  turned  and  smiled.  "  My  name  is 
Francisco.  Everybody  here  calls  me  '  Old  Fran 
cisco.'  I  am  feeling  well  to-day,  thank  you." 

"  Well,  Francisco,  you  have  dug  out  a  mole  to 
day?" 

"  Yes,  one,  an  obstinate  fellow  who  had  burrowed 
deep." 

"  And  was  the  killing  the  only  reward  you  re 
ceived  ?  " 

The  old  man  appeared  not  to  understand.  "  I 
am  old,"  he  said,  in  his  slow  voice,  "  and  I  under 
stand  not  your  jokes,  if  joke  you  mean  it?" 

"  I  mean  did  you  find  a  five  franc  piece  in  the 
hole?" 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          231 

The  old  man  smiled.  "  No,  but  I  shall  find  one 
presently  without  digging." 

"  Yes,  two,"  said  Best,  "  if  you  are  still  of  the 
same  opinion  as  yesterday." 

"  I  change  not  in  a  day,  sir.  Besides  I  do  no 
wrong  and  am  in  need  of  money." 

"  Well,"  said  Best  as  Francisco  came  close  to  the 
fence,  "  here  are  the  two  five  franc  pieces,  also  the 
letter.  Give  it  to  the  young  lady  as  soon  as  you 
can.  Mind  that  none  sees  you  do  it,  and,  Francisco, 
remember  the  gate  is  to  be  left  unlocked." 

"  I  am  as  forgetful  as  I  was  yesterday,  sir,  just 
as  forgetful,"  as  he  removed  his  hat,  and  putting 
the  letter  in  the  crown,  replaced  the  hat  on  his 
head. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Best.  "  Don't  forget  about 
the  gate." 

"  Aye,  I  will  forget  all  about  the  gate,"  as  he 
shambled  away  to  continue  his  search  for  moles. 

Francisco  went  back  to  his  work  with  a  new  joy 
in  his  heart.  The  ten  francs  represented  really  more 
than  he  could  earn  in  a  month.  His  heart  was 
light,  nor  did  his  conscience  in  any  way  vitiate  the 
gladness  in  his  heart.  Not  that  he  coveted  money 
to  a  great  extent,  but  of  a  truth  he  was  very  poor. 
As  he  walked  about  he  occasionally  felt  in  his 
pocket  to  see  if  the  money  was  there,  to  go  on  with 
renewed  vigor  as  the  touch  to  his  hand  revealed 


232          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  reality  of  the  transaction  and  proved  it  was  not 
a  dream.  At  noon  he  ate  his  lunch  in  the  shade, 
keeping  his  hat  on  meanwhile,  contrary  to  his  usual 
custom. 

A  couple  of  hours  later,  the  children  came  out  to 
play,  the  nuns  accompanying  them.  Black  Fran 
cisco  looked  carefully  about  for  Olive,  but  she  did 
not  come  for  some  time.  When  she  did  the  pres 
ence  of  nuns  made  it  inexpedient  for  him  to  give 
her  the  letter.  He  worked  on,  keeping  one  eye 
upon  her  at  all  times,  hoping  the  opportunity  would 
present  itself. 

He  drew  apart  from  the  others,  going  to  the  ex 
treme  end  of  the  garden,  and  interesting  himself  in 
a  bed  of  roses  of  which  he  knew  Olive  to  be  es 
pecially  fond,  hoping  she  would  follow  him.  But 
she  either  did  not  notice  his  actions  or  had  lost  in 
terest  in  those  particular  roses  for  she  came  not 
near  him.  It  came  to  be  nearly  night  and  he  wor 
ried.  Best  had  given  him  to  understand  that  there 
would  be  further  employment  and  more  money  for 
him  later,  and  he  hoped  to  do  his  first  task  as  he 
had  been  instructed.  At  last,  being  sure  that  this 
errand  demanded  quick  action  on  his  part,  for  it 
was  nearly  night,  he  took  the  opportunity  as  the 
nuns  and  the  children  were  apart  from  Olive  to 
walk  close  by  the  seat  on  which  she  sat  sewing  on 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          233 

some  article  that  lay  in  her  lap.  She  looked  up 
as  he  approached,  smiled  and  nodded. 

"  Well,  Francisco,  do  the  moles  still  bother 
you?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said.    Then  he  remembered  his  errand. 

"  Miss  Olive,  I  have  something  to  give  you.  I 
can't  now  or  the  nuns  will  see  me.  You  linger 
after  they  go  in." 

She  had  known  the  old  negro  so  long  that  she 
felt  no  fear  in  promising  to  stay  and  get  whatever 
he  had  for  her. 

She  answered.  "  I  can  stay  only  a  minute  after 
they  go." 

"  All  right,  Miss  Olive,"  and  he  drew  away. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  nuns  and  children  with 
drew  to  prepare  for  the  evening  meal  and  then 
Francisco  came  to  Olive  again. 

"  In  my  hat,  miss,  is  a  letter  for  you." 

He  noticed  the  white  skin  grow  whiter.  She 
knows  wrho  sent  it,  thought  the  old  man,  but  he 
went  on.  "  I  will  drop  my  hat  at  your  feet  and 
this  letter  will  fall  out.  You  pick  it  up  and  take 
care  of  it." 

The  old  man  took  off  his  hat,  fanned  himself 
with  it  a  stroke  or  two  and  dropped  it  at  her  feet. 
The  letter  fell  out.  Olive  stooped,  took  up  the  let 
ter  and  the  hat  at  once  and  handed  Francisco  the 


234         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

hat.  She  turned  her  back  upon  the  convent  and 
placed  the  letter  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 

Then  she  arose  and  took  the  path  toward  the 
convent,  and  entered,  as  the  children  were  going 
into  the  mess-room  for  the  evening  meal. 

As  for  Francisco,  he  gathered  up  his  tools  and 
went  out,  taking  care  to  insert  the  key  in  the  lock 
and  giving  it  violent  turns  this  way  and  that,  con 
vincing  watchers,  should  there  be  any,  that  he  had 
safely  secured  the  gate.  Then  he  started  on  his 
way  home,  muttering  to  himself :  "  I  forgot  and  I 
didn't  forget,  but  that  young  man  will  have  no 
trouble  in  getting  in  that  gate.'' 

The  children  assembled  in  the  main  corridor, 
there  forming  a  line  of  march  three  times  a  day, 
going  thus  to  the  dining-room.  It  was  the  rule  that 
all  should  be  in  place  and  on  time.  As  they  marched 
along,  the  nuns  accompanied  the  children,  after 
which  generally  walked  Olive  followed  by  the  Ab 
bess.  This  night  the  procession  had  moved  in  and 
were  already  at  the  table  wrhen  Olive  entered  the 
room.  The  Abbess  looked  up  at  her  in  surprise. 
Olive  walked  to  her  seat  at  the  left  of  the  Abbess 
and  said,  "  I  am  late.  I  stayed  and  talked  with 
Old  Francisco  longer  than  I  should." 

The  Abbess  smiled  back  her  approval.  Olive  was 
conscientious,  yet  she  thought  it  no  harm  if  she  did 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          235 

not  tell  the  Abbess  the  essence  of  her  conversation 
with  Francisco. 

Olive  James  needs  no  introduction,  nor  is  it  nec 
essary  to  relate  her  early  childhood  life.  From  the 
time  she  had  found  Helen  Reed,  then  Sister  Celes- 
tine,  in  the  convent  of  the  Holy  Apostles  in  New 
York,  the  two  had  been  together.  The  sisters  of 
the  order  had  thought  Sister  Celestine  yet  in  love 
with  things  of  the  world,  else  why  this  friendship 
and  love  toward  the  little  one?  But  she  had  met 
these  criticisms  with  the  story  of  Olive's  life,  and 
had  added  that  she  was  doing  the  Master's  bidding 
in  keeping  her  from  harm  and  the  world.  All 
these  years  Olive  had  been  in  the  convent,  she  had 
been  supported  by  the  funds  that  were  the  regular 
annuity  of  the  convent  from  the  church  and  its 
people.  Until  she  was  sixteen,  perhaps,  she  had 
been  as  other  children  here,  doing  as  they  did,  liv 
ing  as  they  lived  in  every  detail,  save  that  in  the 
heart  of  one  of  the  sisters,  who  later  was  the  Abbess, 
there  was  given  her  a  little  softer  and  more  tender 
solicitation  than  to  the  others,  and  why  not?  Yet 
this  greater  kindness,  the  result  of  this  love,  was 
not  apparent  to  the  others.  Instead  it  was  dispersed 
so  thoroughly  and  with  so  great  care  as  to  be  un 
noticed  by  them.  While  Olive  had  not  noticed  it 
in  this  way,  nor  knew  it  by  the  name  of  preference 
or  partiality,  yet  it  had  the  tendency  to  cause  her 


236          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

to  cling  to  her  who  was  first  Sister  Celestine  and 
then  Abbess,  with  a  deep  love  and  reverence. 

For  many  years  she  wore  the  regulation  convent 
dress  and  received  instruction  with  the  others,  yet 
surpassing  all  in  quickness  to  learn,  in  aptness  of 
discernment.  This  aptness  naturally  created  in 
terest  in  her  by  others  than  her  protectress,  so 
naturally  and  with  this  assistance  she  forged  ahead. 
The  standard  of  education  in  this  convent,  like 
many  in  southern  isles,  was  not  exceedingly  high, 
but  it  did  include  the  fundamental  branches 
and  even  those  more  classical.  Olive  in  her  seven 
teenth  year  had  successfully  encountered  all  that 
lay  in  the  curriculum  of  the  convent,  and  in  addi 
tion,  the  Abbess,  herself  educated  well,  had  helped 
her  further  along  in  studies  not  there  taught. 

After  her  graduation,  which  took  place  in  the 
presence  of  the  Bishop,  the  priests  of  the  island 
and  others  invited,  a  controversy  arose  in  the  mind 
of  the  Abbess  as  to  what  was  best  regarding  Olive's 
future.  That  she  could  not  stay  here  forever  with 
out  embracing  the  faith  and  become  a  nun  she  well 
knew.  Nor  had  she  ever  hoped,  requested  or  sug 
gested  that  Olive  take  orders  and  become  a  nun. 
Olive's  parents  were  Protestants  and  the  Abbess  had 
become  a  Catholic  of  her  own  free  will,  and  so  she 
would  not  influence  the  mind  of  this  girl.  Of  course 
she  attended  the  chapel  services,  showing  interest  in 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          237 

them,  yet  was  never  offered  as  a  prospective  candi 
date  for  confirmation.  The  clergy  of  the  island, 
with  few  exceptions,  were  not  of  inspiring  character, 
and  little  was  said  to  the  Abbess  regarding  Olive's 
religious  faith,  and  so  she  was  left  somewhat  to  her 
own  prerogatives,  not,  however,  without  being  re 
quired  to  teach  the  simple  child-prayers,  to  exact 
the  attendance  at  chapel  and  observances  of  the 
Church  services.  Olive  knew  that  in  some  ways 
she  was  different  from  the  others,  and  she  firmly 
believed  this  to  be  one  of  the  ways  in  which  she 
differed,  so  was  content  to  follow  out  the  course 
the  Abbess  had  marked  out  for  her,  trusting  that 
time  would  bring  about  changes  that  she  felt  would 
be  desirable. 

The  Abbess  many  times  had  considered  what 
was  best  to  do  concerning  Olive's  future,  first  hop 
ing  she  would  keep  her  always  with  her,  hoping  she 
would  accept  the  life  of  the  convent.  Then  she 
would  feel  that  Olive,  by  birth  was  entitled  to  bet 
ter  things, — things  more  worldly,  of  which  the  Ab 
bess  had  had  a  glimpse  in  her  early  life.  At  other 
times  she  thought  she  would  have  Olive  return  to 
New  York,  or  to  the  small  town  in  which  the  girl 
was  born,  introducing  her  and  telling  her  story  to 
the  world. 

Then  she  would  recall  the  coldness  of  society, 
the  unsympathetic  mien  of  the  masses,  and  her 


238          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

heart  would  quake  for  Olive's  welfare,  and  so  Olive 
was  with  her  yet.  Olive,  on  the  other  hand,  saw 
little  of  the  world  beyond  what  the  Abbess  had  told 
her,  and  was  content  to  stay  here.  When  they  were 
alone,  which  happened  occasionally  when  the  Ab 
bess  came  to  her  room,  she  still  called  the  Abbess 
mamma;  still  kissed  her  and  was  kissed  in  return. 
These  little  loving  tokens  of  course  were  unseen 
by  others. 

Olive  loved  the  Abbess  as  she  might  have  loved 
her  mother,  and  while  she  knew  something  of  her 
own  history,  beyond  that  her  own  parents  were 
dead,  she  concentrated  all  the  love  she  might  have 
felt  for  both  parents  on  this  one  woman.  She  felt 
no  desire  to  go  away.  In  her  simplicity  she  was 
content  to  stay  and  take  up  with  changes  circum 
stances  might  force.  Her  simplicity  in  many  things 
wras  marked,  yet  her  knowledge  of  people  and  their 
ways  was  good,  so  far  as  knowledge  could  be  ac 
quired  without  actual  contact. 

This  could  be  traced  to  the  Abbess's  teachings, 
of  her  attempts  to  forewarn  and  forearm  Olive 
against  contingencies  that  might  arise  should  Olive 
be  thrown  on  the  world  alone.  The  girl  well  knew 
of  the  sin  in  the  world,  of  the  proneness  of  people 
to  do  harm,  yet  had  no  great  suspicion  of  the  mo 
tives  of  the  people  at  large.  She  had  been  taught 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          239 

that  men  were  to  be  cherished  when  a  good  one 
was  found,  but  that  some  and  many  wrere  base.  She 
knew  of  the  differences  existing  between  the  sexes 
and  indeed,  by  reason  of  her  knowledge  and 
the  simplicity  of  her  life  and  thought,  was  a  true 
child  of  nature.  Somehow  books  that  were  not  of 
the  regular  convent  library,  found  their  way  to  her 
room.  Gift  books,  they  were  intended  to  enlarge 
her  mind  and  knowledge,  brought  by  the  Abbess 
from  where  Olive  knew  not,  yet  from  their  dates 
might  have  supposed  she  brought  them  with  her 
years  before,  and  in  anticipation  of  the  time  when 
Olive  might  need  them.  These  books  often  con 
tained  love  tales,  perhaps  a  romance  that  awakened 
in  her  heart  some  desires  that  were  proper  and 
ennobling. 

She  had  seen  but  little  of  men,  save  the  Bishop 
and  priests.  Sometimes  she  had  noticed,  as  she 
walked  out  or  looked  through  the  palings,  surround 
ing  the  convent,  the  young  French  dandies  of  the 
city,  who  passed  by.  Occasionally  she  heard  them 
talk,  for  she  spoke  French  well,  and  noticed  their 
flippancy  or  baseness,  heard  them  utter  oaths  or 
indecent  sayings  that  made  her  blush  and  feel  that 
they  were  the  sort  the  Abbess  had  warned  her 
against.  While  she  did  not,  like  a  captive  bird, 
beat  against  the  bars  of  the  cage,  and  was  not  dis- 


240          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

contented  here,  yet  she  felt  she  would  like  to  see 
some  young  man  who  was  of  the  noble  sort,  the 
sort  the  Abbess  approved. 

When  she  saw  Harold  Graham,  as  she  opened 
her  eyes  the  day  he  had  saved  her  from  the  fer- 
de-lance  on  Mt.  Pelee,  that  day  she  had  felt  he  was 
of  this  latter  kind. 

As  she  had  revived  from  the  shock  of  the  attack 
by  the  serpent,  she  had  looked  up  into  the  eyes  of 
Graham,  as  he  bent  over  her ;  so  intent  was  his  face 
as  he  felt  her  pulse,  that  she  believed  in  him  then. 
She  had  been  a  bit  surprised  at  his  presence  and 
what  seemed  to  the  others  as  a  recurrence  of  the 
faint,  when  she  closed  her  eyes  a  second  time,  was 
only  a  silent  communion  with  herself,  due  to  sur 
prise  and  pleasure  at  her  meeting  with  this  man. 
She  was  glad  when  he  gave  her  his  card,  glad  of  the 
chance  to  mention  her  own  name.  For  in  fact  she 
had  thought  of  him  several  times  since  the  time 
in  the  cathedral  and  wondered  if  they  would  meet 
again. 

After  this  day  on  Mount  Pelee,  she  had  won 
dered  if  he  would  attempt  to  see  her  again.  She 
had  noticed  how  the  Abbess  scrutinized  him,  and 
also  thought  it  was  a  look  of  disapproval.  She 
had  glanced  through  the  palings  for  the  two  days 
intervening  when  out  in  the  yard,  in  the  hope  of  see 
ing  him.  She  had  looked  in  vain.  She  was  not 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          241 

therefore  greatly  surprised  when  Francisco  gave  her 
the  letter,  nevertheless  she  was  much  pleased.  Dur 
ing  the  evening  meal  she  was  preoccupied;  the  let 
ter  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress  seemed  to  burn  her 
flesh,  yet  she  knew  that  anything  irregular  in  her 
habits,  should  she  attempt  going  by  herself  to  read 
its  contents,  coupled  with  the  fact  that  she  had 
been  late  for  the  evening  meal,  might  arouse  the 
suspicions  of  the  Abbess.  So  she  did  as  usual  at 
this  time. 

In  the  company  of  the  Abbess  and  the  nuns, 
she  saw  the  children  romp  and  play  in  the  large 
hall  in  front,  then  go  into  the  chapel  for  the 
closing  prayers  of  the  day.  After  this,  the  children 
were  marched  to  their  respective  wards  and  were 
put  to  bed.  Unlike  the  ancient  nuns  who  lived  in 
cells  more  gloomy  than  those  of  a  prison,  slept  in 
cold  beds  of  straw,  thus  denying  themselves  things 
God  intended  for  his  children,  these  nuns  here  at 
the  St.  Mary  convent  lived  in  rooms  with  good 
beds,  plainly  furnished  of  course  and  without  dec 
oration,  but  comfortable  withal. 

On  the  second  floor  at  the  end  of  a  hall  was  a 
room  that  since  Olive  came  to  be  older  had  been 
given  to  her.  There  were  not  enough  nuns  to  fill 
all  the  rooms,  and  the  Abbess  had  embraced  the 
opportunity  to  take  her  from  the  regular  ward  of 
16 


242          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  children.  Her  room,  plainly  furnished,  like 
those  occupied  by  the  nuns,  overlooked  the  garden 
already  mentioned.  Being  on  the  corner  of  the 
building,  it  commanded  a  view  from  its  windows 
in  two  directions,  of  the  garden  and  of  the  street. 

To  this  room  Olive  made  her  way  now  that  she 
was  at  liberty  to  do  so.  In  half  an  hour  the  lights 
would  go  out,  and  all  would  be  in  bed,  save  a  pray 
ing  sister,  who  might  be  at  the  altar  in  the  chapel 
praying  for  some  one,  mayhap  an  erring  brother  out 
in  the  world.  After  Olive  entered  her  room,  as  the 
gloom  was  fast  falling,  she  lighted  a  candle  and 
holding  it  aloft  beheld  herself  in  the  small  mirror 
that  was  hers.  She  looked  first  at  her  dark  hair 
above,  then  at  the  black  eyes,  with  the  dark  brows 
and  long  lashes,  and  at  the  flush  that  was  over  her 
cheek.  She  felt  it  to  be  a  flush.  Yet  had  she 
analyzed  it  far  enough,  she  might  have  discovered 
it  was  an  inner  reflection  of  anxious  expectancy 
and  awakening. 

As  she  looked  upon  herself,  there  came  to  her  a 
knowledge  that  she  was  beautiful.  This  knowledge 
she  had  never  felt  before,  but  now  she  fell  to  com 
paring  herself  to  the  French  ladies  she  met  and  the 
native  mulatto  women  of  Martinique,  who  were 
noted  for  their  beauty,  and  she  knew  she  was  more 
beautiful  than  they.  This  thought  was  only 
transient,  for  her  own  level  head  was  neither  con- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          243 

ceited  nor  foolish.  Besides  she  had  more  mo 
mentous  business  at  hand  than  self-admiration. 
She  drew  the  shades,  closed  the  door  securely,  and 
took  from  her  dress  the  letter.  Her  hand  trembled 
as  she  opened  it,  and  a  glance  at  the  glass  showed 
her  cheeks  now  to  be  scarlet,  as  the  blood  surged 
through  her  veins.  Unfolding  the  paper  the  en 
velope  contained,  her  hand  trembling,  so  that  it 
interfered  with  rapid  reading,  she  read  the  follow 
ing  letter,  in  English : 

"  Miss  Olive  James, 

St.  Mary's  Convent, 

St.  Pierre,  Martinique. 
Dear  Madam : — 

The  writer  introduces  himself  as  one  whom  you 
met  on  Mt.  Pelee  at  the  time  of  your  encounter 
with  the  fer-de-lance.  Believe  me  when  I  declare 
that  I  feel  I  am  imposing  upon  you,  and  most  pre 
sumptuous  when,  after  the  slight  service  which  I 
rendered,  I  presume  to  address  you  by  letter.  Yet 
I  cannot  resist  the  impulse  to  do  so.  I  hope  you 
realize  this  as  I  do,  and  will  forgive  me.  I  long 
for  a  chance  to  see  you,  and  talk  with  you  again 
and  alone.  I  have  arranged  with  old  Francisco  so 
that  it  will  be  possible  for  me  to  be  under  the  palms 
that  line  the  playground  of  the  convent  to-night. 
If  you  can  arrange  to  come,  I  will  be  there  at  eight 


244          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

thirty.      Anxiously   I   await   that   hour   and   more 
anxiously  I  will  await  your  coming. 

Most  sincerely  and  obediently  yours, 

HAROLD  GRAHAM." 

She  read  and  re-read  the  letter  many  times,  never 
for  a  moment  considering  thus, — will  I  go  or  not? 
She  read  it  many  times;  she  read  it  until  a  glance 
at  a  tiny  clock,  the  gift  of  the  Abbess,  showed  her 
that  it  was  time  she  went  out  if  she  would  be  under 
the  palms  at  eight-thirty. 

I  said  she  did  not  consider  whether  she  should  go 
or  not.  That  was  true.  The  '  not '  had  been 
eliminated  from  the  start.  Nothing  negative  was 
a  factor  in  her  decision.  She  tiptoed  down  the 
hallway,  down  the  stairs  and  out  the  main  door  in 
front  which  she  unlocked  and  passed  out  to  meet 
him  whom  she  scarcely  knew,  but  in  whom  she  had 
great  confidence. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          245 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON  the  day  Graham  had  rescued  Olive  from  the 
fer-de-lance  on  Mount  Pelee,  he  and  Best  after 
making  sure  all  was  well  with  Olive,  had  withdrawn 
and  a  few  hours  later  gone  home,  leaving  the  con 
vent  party  to  make  their  own  way  in  the  same 
direction.  As  the  walk  from  the  city  up  to  the 
place  they  had  picnicked  was  long,  the  Abbess  had 
thought  best  not  to  go  back  until  all  were  thoroughly 
rested  and  the  heat  of  the  day  past,  for  in  this 
equatorial  climate  the  evenings  are  cool.  So,  as 
the  day  waned,  she  led  her  little  flock  down  the 
mountain.  At  the  base,  they  took  the  highway 
leading  toward  the  city.  This  was  a  boulevard, 
much  traveled,  flanked  on  either  side  by  handsome 
residences,  where  each  owner  tried  to  outdo  the 
other  in  floral  landscape  decoration,  assisted  by  the 
climate  and  the  luxuriant  native  plants.  This  road 
way  was  of  a  fine,  hard  bottom,  and  was  a  boule 
vard  that  ended  in  the  Rue  Victor  Hugo,  furnish 
ing  a  most  beautiful  driveway  for  those  whose 
means  allowed  them  the  possession  of  an  equipage. 


246         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  party  walked  down  the  roadway,  the  children 
and  nuns  ahead,  the  Abbess  and  Olive  behind.  The 
children  were  tired  and  walked  slowly,  or  sat  by 
the  roadside  occasionally  and  rested,  the  Abbess 
content  to  allow  them  to  do  as  they  chose. 

Many  fine  equipages  came  along  in  either  direc 
tion,  some  of  the  occupants  throwing  pennies  to 
the  children,  who  scrambled  to  get  the  most  with 
an  eagerness  born  of  want  and  desire.  A  handsome 
pair  of  horses  made  their  way  toward  the  party.  In 
the  rear  seat  of  a  modern  brougham  was  a  woman 
of  doubtful  years,  of  creamy  complexion  and  blonde 
hair.  Her  companion  was  a  man,  her  opposite  so 
far  as  hair  and  complexion  were  concerned,  for  his 
skin  was  dark  and  the  hair  black,  save  that  around 
the  temples  which  was  a  little  gray.  They  were 
talking : 

"  Has  your  lord  softened  his  feelings  toward 
me  as  yet  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  Nay  and  he  will  not.  I  have  tried  to  persuade 
him  that  he  did  not  see  me  in  your  arms  that  night 
you  were  initiated,  yet  he  persisted,  maintaining 
that  though  he  was  drunk,  yet  he  remembered  this 
plainly.  He  could  not  afford  to  oppose  you  as  a 
delegate  to  come  here,  then  all  would  know  the 
secret,  or  at  least  attribute  his  opposition  to  jeal 
ousy.  But  he  has  told  me  I  must  leave  you  en 
tirely  alone." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          247 

"  And  how  did  you  get  away  to-day?  " 

"  Well,  he  plays  cards  much  these  days,  having 
little  to  do.  Gambling  is  the  other  name  for  it. 
He  has  drunk  heavily  ever  since  that  night  too. 
After  lunch  I  saw  him  going  into  a  room  with 
boon  companions  and  I  felt  it  was  my  time,  for  I 
have  not  seen  you  for  a  chat  since  we  were  on  board 
ship  a  week  or  more  ago,  so  I  sent  for  the  horses 
and  despatched  the  note  to  you." 

"  I  appreciate  your  driving  me  out,"  he  said : 
"  yes,  it  seems  like  an  age  since  we  last  met." 

"  You  say  that  with  little  enthusiasm  "  she  said : 
"You  don't  feel  that  way  now,  do  you?" 

"Why,  yes,"  he  said,  "why  shouldn't  I?" 

"  You  don't,  though.  You  haven't  cared  for  me 
since  I  refused  to  be  your  mistress." 

He  laughed.     "  That  did  make  some  difference." 

"  You  should  have  respected  me  more  after  I 
refused." 

"  You  were  another  man's  mistress  at  the  time; 
you  are  yet." 

"  Yes,  but  I  shall  not  be  another's." 

"Why  then  do  you  question  my  coldness?  I 
never  made  such  an  offer  to  any  one  before." 

"  You  know  in  what  way  I  will  come  to  you." 

"  Let  us  drop  the  subject." 

By  this  time  they  had  come  up  with  the  children 
of  the  convent.  Mademoiselle  Sara,  for  'twas  she 


248          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

and  Durand,  spoke  to  the  driver,  who  stopped  his 
horses  just  in  front  of  the  children.  Sara  reached 
for  her  purse  and  took  from  it  a  handful  of  loose 
money  of  small  denominations  and  scattered  it 
broadcast  over  the  smooth  roadway.  She  stood  up 
to  do  this,  and  as  she  watched  the  little  ones  fly 
about,  in  their  eagerness  pushing  one  another  that 
this  one  or  that  one  might  secure  the  coveted  coin, 
she  grew  excited,  her  face  flushed  and  she  excitedly 
called  upon  Durand. 

"  Come,  come,  do  likewise.  Empty  your  pockets 
that  these  little  unfortunate  negroes  may  enjoy 
candy  afterward.  Disgorge!  Disgorge!"  she 
called  out. 

It  was  doubtful  if  Durand  ever  before  gave  away 
anything.  He  had  been  sitting  back  looking  on 
the  scene  without  concern,  but  the  words  of  Sara 
aroused  him. 

He  took  out  a  large  leathern  wallet  and  handed 
it  to  Sara. 

"All  of  it?"  she  asked. 

It  was  true  he  did  not  relish  seeing  it  go.  Time 
was  when  he  would  have  said  no  at  once  and  pos 
itively. 

Now  slowly  he  nodded  to  her.  It  was  all 
she  wanted.  She  poured  out  her  small  hands  full 
several  times  and  threw  the  contents  to  the  children, 
a  performance  she  enjoyed  and  which  surprised 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          249 

the  children.  They  were  used  to  having  small 
coins  thrown  at  them,  but  here  was  a  shower  that 
occasionally  contained  a  franc  or  two,  and  they 
were  greatly  surprised  and  excited. 

The  procession  had  of  course  halted.  The  nuns 
looked  on  or  separated  the  children  who  fought 
for  possession  of  a  small  treasure.  The  Abbess 
and  Olive  as  spectators  stood  back  a  distance.  As 
the  performance  drew  to  an  end,  the  Abbess  said  to 
Olive,  "  Come  let  us  draw  forward  and  thank 
these  people,  for  they  seem  to  be  good  at  heart, 
even  though  they  are  from  St.  Pierre." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  from  France  or  America," 
said  Olive. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  Abbess. 

The  children  drew  apart  as  they  approached  the 
wagon. 

Going  close,  the  Abbess  spoke.  "  Friends,  I 
thank  you  for  your  generosity  to  my  little  ones. 
You  were  truly  generous."  Reverently  she  raised 
her  hand,  "  May  the  Blessed  Virgin  bring  reward 
to  you  for  your  goodness." 

These  Devil  Worshippers  were  taken  aback  by 
this  display  of  piety  and  thankfulness,  so  that  for 
a  moment  neither  spoke.  Then  the  Mademoiselle 
found  words  to  say.  "  It  is  nothing.  We  are  glad 
to  have  pleased  the  children."  But  she  returned  no 
word  of  thanks  for  the  blessing. 


250          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Durand  had  looked  at  the  Abbess  quickly  and 
then  at  the  girl  with  her.  His  gaze  grew  intent. 
His  lips  parted.  Surely,  thought  he,  yonder  is  the 
most  beautiful  creature  alive.  His  eyes  ran  over  the 
supple  outline  of  her  figure,  taking  in  the  beautiful 
white  neck,  the  full  bust,  the  well  poised  head, 
with  its  hair  of  Egyptian  darkness.  A  smile  came  to 
his  face.  He  was  pleased.  Yes,  pleased  with  this 
girl,  Olive  James,  whom  as  a  child  he  had  plundered 
and  robbed.  A  sensual  look  overspread  his  features. 

It  was  plain  to  Olive  he  looked  not  on  her  as  a 
gentleman  should  look,  and  she  abruptly  turned 
her  back  toward  him.  The  Abbess  saw  this  and 
looked  at  her  and  then  at  him  inquiringly.  Her 
blood  ran  cold  in  her  veins,  for  in  him  she  recog 
nized  Herbert  Durand,  the  despoiler  of  Olive's 
wealth  and  chances.  She  would  have  swooned  had 
Olive  not  spoken.  "  Come,  Mother,"  she  said,  "  let 
us  move  on." 

Durand  had  paid  no  attention  to  the  Abbess.  In 
stead  he  had  his  eyes  still  fixed  on  Olive.  The  Ab 
bess  took  Olive's  arm  and  they  slowly  walked  on 
together.  Sara  gave  the  command  to  move  on, 
while  Durand  craned  his  neck,  still  looking  at  Olive. 

"  Come,"  said  Sara  who  had  not  recognized  the 
girl  by  reason  of  the  changes  the  intervening  years 
had  worked  in  her,  nor  the  Abbess,  for  she,  too, 
had  changed,  and  her  bonnet  hid  the  most  of  her 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          251 

face.  Besides  Mademoiselle  Sara  had  seen  the  latter 
only  once  before.  "  Come,  M.  Durand,  are  you 
smitten  with  the  young  lady?"  While  her  voice 
was  flippant,  her  face  was  severe,  for  she  had  not 
iced  the  great  interest  Durand  had  taken  in  this  girl, 
had  seen  him  glance  at  her,  a  glance  touched  with 
malevolent  lust,  and  while  feeling  no  resentment  to 
ward  the  girl,  she  watched  the  effect  of  her  words 
upon  him. 

She  considered  her  feelings  had  been  outraged 
by  Durand.  She  had  told  him  she  would  be  only 
his  wife,  and  she  had  hoped  that  this  day  would 
at  least  help  her  cause.  She  hoped  he  would  see 
where  they  both  stood  in  the  matter.  She  knew 
herself  to  be  tainted  beyond  reparation  in  character, 
yet  she  was  as  good  as  he,  and  why  not  marry  her  ? 
She  would  hold  out  against  his  wishes  that  she 
leave  M.  Divan  and  become  his  mistress,  in  the 
hope  that  her  firmness  would  gain  her  some  re 
spect  and  assist  her  in  winning  him.  She  had  re 
solved  to  seek  his  society  more  when  convenient, 
to  assist  her  in  this  task. 

Now  she  saw  in  his  face  more  interest  when  he 
looked  upon  Olive  than  she  had  seen  there  since 
the  kidnapping  of  a  little  girl,  so  many  years  ago. 
Yet  she  never  thought  that  the  same  one  who  had 
awakened  interest  in  him  before  had  done  so  again. 

Durand  replied  to  Sara :     "  Yes,  the  young  lady 


252          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

is  the  most  beautiful  I  have  ever  seen.  She  is  indeed 
lovely." 

"  But  strange,  M.  Durand,  that  you,  a  man  of  the 
world,  should  be  so  smitten  at  first  sight  with  a 
convent  girl." 

"  A  convent  girl  at  least  will  be  virtuous,"  he  re 
plied. 

The  crimson  came  to  Sara's  face.  Hotly  she 
replied,  "  From  your  lecherous  look  I  judge  you 
envy  her  this  virtue." 

"  You,  better  than  I,  might  envy  her  this." 

"  We  are  quarreling  over  the  girl.  Let  us  change 
the  subject,  and  continue  our  drive." 

"  Nay,  let  us  return  to  the  city." 

"  Very  well." 

The  next  day  Durand  inquired  concerning  the 
convents  of  the  city.  He  was  told  there  was  only 
one  and  was  informed  of  its  location. 

That  night,  although  the  Devil  Worshippers 
were  to  hold  their  nightly  soiree  in  the  great  temple 
of  Satan,  the  temple  that  held  the  archives  of  the 
head  of  their  society,  he  wandered  forth  in  search 
of  the  Convent  of  St.  Mary. 

He  located  it  easily  and  from  the  streets  saw, 
as  he  looked,  its  lights  disappear.  Not  that  this 
gave  him  any  pleasure,  but  he  felt  the  one  woman 
whom  he  had  ever  really  cared  to  possess  was 
housed  and  beyond  those  walls.  He  hoped  that 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          253 

something  to  his  advantage  would  come  up  that  he 
might  possibly  see  her  and  speak  with  her  alone. 

As  Mademoiselle  Sara  had  said,  it  was  strange 
that  a  man  of  the  world  like  Durand,  one  who  had 
passed  through  the  years  of  youth  and  was  now 
nearly  ready  to  enter  upon  the  years  that  are  termed 
middle  age  should  be  smitten  with  a  young  girl 
like  Olive  James.  Beautiful  though  she  was,  her 
nature  and  inclination  were  entirely  incongruous  to 
the  selfishness  and  evil  inclinations  of  Durand.  A 
Mademoiselle  Sara  was  more  his  style.  Yet  his  in 
terest  in  her,  provoked  by  a  single  meeting,  was 
great.  He  had  at  once  calculated  he  loved  her, 
and  would  marry  her.  He  had  always  given  him 
self  the  desires  of  his  heart  and  he  did  not  for  a 
moment  doubt  but  that  he  would  possess  this  fair 
blossom  of  a  sunny  isle. 

He  made  a  mental  picture  of  himself,  rich  and 
with  a  beautiful  young  wife,  going  about  the  world. 
He  would  be  her  tutor  in  many  things  she  did  not 
know,  she  winning  social  prestige  for  them  both 
by  her  beauty.  These  dreams  were  only  born  of 
a  day's  reflection,  yet  he  liked  them.  He  had 
never  had  such  dreams  before  and  he  thought  it 
was  an  awakening  of  the  "  divine  passion  "  in  him. 

Feeling  himself  to  be  in  love,  he  had  come  there 
this  evening.  He  chuckled  to  himself,  as  he  thought 
how  really  foolish  it  was  and  wondered  why  he 


254          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

did  it.  Could  he  have  been  able  to  read  the  future, 
he  might  have  known  that  fate  was  here  working 
out  a  vindication.  Here  the  saying,  "  Those  whom 
the  gods  would  destroy,  they  first  make  mad," 
would  apply  to  him. 

The  first  evening  was  devoid  of  any  results  so 
far  as  Durand  was  concerned.  The  second  evening 
he  came  back  and  loitered  again  in  the  vicinity.  He 
saw  the  candle  lighted  in  Olive's  room;  saw  her 
as  she  drew  the  shade,  and  his  heart  leaped,  and  a 
passion  burned  him  as  he  looked  on  the  young  lady 
in  her  own  chamber. 

For  a  time  he  carefully  passed  up  and  down  the 
walk.  Finally  he  heard  the  sound  of  footsteps. 
He  walked  to  a  mango  tree  that  fringed  the  walk 
and  stepped  behind  it.  A  young  man  came  along, 
so  close  that  he  could  have  touched  his  arm  as  he 
passed.  He  was  evidently  walking  so  quickly  for 
a  purpose  as  his  stealthy  step  proved. 

St.  Pierre  rejoiced  in  the  possession  of  electric 
lights,  yet  its  side  streets  were  poorly  lighted.  This 
being  a  side  street  the  light  that  adorned  the  corner 
near  the  Cathedral  shone  so  faintly  down  to  where 
Durand  was  concealed,  he  could  not  get  much  of 
a  view  of  the  man  who  passed,  save  that  he  was 
young,  medium  sized  and  alert.  Durand  kept  his 
eyes  on  him  for  no  particular  reason,  save  that  he 
did  not  care  to  be  observed  himself. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          255 

The  young  man  walked  a  little  distance  below 
the  convent,  turned  and  came  back,  a  manoeuvre 
that  seemed  to  satisfy  him  the  coast  was  clear,  then 
he  stepped  forward  and  stealthily  opened  a  gate 
that  Durand  had  not  noticed,  in  the  dark,  and  now 
only  was  sure  was  there  by  the  fact  that  the  man 
disappeared  through  it  and  he  heard  a  slight  click 
of  the  latch. 

Retaining  his  place  behind  the  tree  he  saw  a 
white  figure  move  across  the  lawn,  moving  carefully 
and  slowly,  making  no  noise  as  it  walked.  Durand 
then  understood.  Even  in  this  convent  garden  a 
love-making  was  going  on,  and  the  young  lady  was 
coming  out  to  meet  her  lover. 

"  Some  faithless  nun,"  he  commented.  Then  he 
glanced  at  the  window  where  he  had  seen  Olive. 
The  light  had  disappeared.  He  knew  now  it  was 
she  who  came  out.  He  swallowed  a  great  oath 
that  came  in  his  throat.  Bah !  he  had  prated  of  her 
virtue  this  day  to  Sara.  Virtue  indeed,  she  was 
holding  clandestine  meetings  with  a  lover!  He 
would  know  if  this  were  true.  He  would  see  if  it 
were  she.  He  tiptoed  down  the  walk  noiselessly  to 
where  the  other  man  disappeared.  He  felt  for  the 
latch  of  the  gate  and  found  it.  Carefully  he  opened 
it  and  stepped  inside.  To  the  left  was  the  row  of 
palms,  and  he  placed  himself  under  their  shadows 
as  he  walked  forward,  lest  even  the  dim  light  would 


256          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

reveal  his  presence.  He  forged  ahead  slowly,  feel 
ing  his  way,  now  stopping  and  listening.  He  heard 
a  voice  in  front  and  near  by.  He  stopped  short 
and  listened.  He  heard  a  man's  voice  say  in  low 
tones,  "  You  came,  did  you?  I  was  afraid  I  asked 
more  than  you  could  or  would  do." 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer.     "  I  came." 

"  I  am  glad,"  was  returned.    A  silence  followed. 

"  Shall  not  we  be  seated?  "  said  the  man's  voice. 

The  girl  acquiesced  and  they  came  a  little  closer 
to  Durand  than  before.  He  saw  their  forms  now 
dimly  outlined,  the  girl  seated  a  few  feet  from  the 
man,  both  peering  through  the  darkness  in  each 
other's  faces. 

"  You  know  my  name,"  the  man  said.  "  I  man 
age  a  sugar  plantation  on  the  Fort  de  France  road. 
I  first  saw  you  in  the  cathedral  that  day.  You  re 
member  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  remember." 

In  the  tones,  Durand  recognized  the  voice  that 
had  bade  the  Abbess  to  continue  on  their  way  the 
day  before,  when  Sara  had  thrown  the  coins  to 
the  unfortunates.  Clear,  sweet  tones  they  were 
now,  musical  and  captivating  in  contrast  to  the 
startled,  timid  voice  with  which  she  had  resented  his 
glances. 

The  man  went  on.  "  From  that  time  I  wanted 
to  see  you  again.  I  thought  of  you  much.  I  even 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          257 

searched  for  you,  but  to  no  avail.  Then  I  met 
you  on  Pelee  and  I  wanted  to  see  you  again,  so  I 
requested  this  meeting.  Underhanded  though  it 
seem  to  the  Abbess,  yet  I  think'I  am  justified.  But 
I  hope  you  do  not  think  I  did  wrong  in  asking  you 
to  come  here,  do  you  ?  " 

The  girl  had  not  replied  to  his  rambling  talk. 
She  was  timid,  but  at  his  direct  question  if  she 
thought  his  request  wrong,  she  answered,  "  No." 

He  smiled.     "Then  I  may  come  again?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  timidly. 

"  Would  the  Abbess  object  if  she  knew? " 

"  Certainly,"  came  back  the  answer. 

"  Then  we  must  be  careful,"  he  said,  to  which 
she  assented.  Both  were  considerably  embarrassed, 
and  he  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  talk  about,  started 
in  and  told  her  of  himself.  She  was  an  eager  list 
ener.  He  told  her  of  his  birth,  of  his  early  home, 
of  his  father  and  mother.  His  father's  death  he 
mentioned  as  a  recent  occurrence  and  added  that  he 
went  to  New  York  on  receipt  of  the  cable  announc 
ing  it,  and  that  he  had  brought  back  a  young  man 
whose  name  she  knew. 

"  In  fact,"  he  added,  "  he  prompted  me  to  send 
you  the  letter.  "  It  was  he  who  bribed  Francisco  to 
leave  the  gate  unlocked." 

Playfully  she  asked,  "  Then  you  talk  of  me,  be 
sides  thinking  of  me?" 

17 


258          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  I  can  talk  or  think  of  nothing  more  interest 
ing,  but  tell  me  of  yourself  so  I  may  think  more 
about  you,  knowing  you  better.  Have  you  been 
here  long?  " 

"  Since  a  child.  For  fifteen  years  at  least.  I 
too  came  from  New  York." 

Graham,  for  it  was  he,  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  Yes,  from  New  York.  I  came  with  the  Abbess. 
My  parents  were  dead.  She  knew  them  and  took 
charge  of  me.  Here  I  have  lived  ever  since 
with  this  noble  woman  who  has  never  forced 
Catholicism  on  me,  knowing  my  parents  were  Prot 
estant."  As  they  talked,  Olive,  throwing  off  the  re 
straint  and  bash  fulness,  told  of  her  life  when  a 
child,  of  which  she  remembered  little  save  that  she 
lived  in  a  small  town  and  finally  was  in  the  convent. 
Of  her  life  here,  she  told  in  detail,  and  he  seemed 
much  interested  in  this  tale  of  a  most  simple  ex 
istence,  an  interest  that  she  noted  and  took  to  be 
approval. 

"  But,"  asked  Graham,  as  she  finished,  "  do  you 
not  know  more  about  your  parentage?  " 

"  I  have  never  asked.  When  young  I  wondered 
about  it,  but  lately  I  have  thought  they  must  have 
been  very  poor,  and  why  should  I  follow  out  a  tale 
of  their  poverty  and  suffering?  " 

This  answer  did  not  seem  to  satisfy  Graham. 
He  did  not  doubt  but  that  Olive  came  from  re- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          259 

spectable  parents,  and  was  curious  enough  by  nature 
to  get  at  the  bottom  of  things. 

He  said,  "  I  would  want  to  know  if  I  were  you." 
So  on  they  talked  until  Olive  mentioned  that  she 
must  go  in. 

"Are  you  not  afraid  to  come  out  here?"  he 
asked. 

"  No,  I  knew  by  your  face  that  I  was  safe,"  she 
replied.  She  arose  to  go  and  offered  him  her  hand. 

They  heard  a  slight  noise  near  by,  as  though 
some  one  took  a  long  breath, — a  sigh  of  relief  as 
it  were. 

Graham  looked  and  under  a  palm  near  by,  plainly 
outlined  against  the  sky  beyond,  saw  the  figure  of 
a  man.  He  thought  of  Best,  who  had  come  into  the 
city  with  him ;  not  that  Best  would  be  an  eaves 
dropper,  but  he  thought  he  might  have  wandered 
this  way  in  quest  of  him. 

"  Hello,  Frank,"  he  said.  No  reply  came.  Then 
he  saw  the  form  was  of  a  larger  man  than  Best. 
He  held  Olive's  hand  in  his,  and  felt  her  tremble 
as  though  greatly  disturbed.  Hers  was  a  twofold 
fear.  She  feared  for  their  personal  safety,  and 
any  outcry  would  warn  the  Abbess  that  she  had 
left  the  convent  to  meet  a  man  whom  she  scarcely 
knew. 

"  Who  are  you,  sir?"  demanded  Graham,  speak 
ing  in  French. 


260          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

No  reply. 

Graham  advanced  toward  Durand.  Neither 
showed  fear.  Durand  was  the  taller  and  heavier  of 
the  two,  yet  Graham  was  young,  supple  and  strong. 
One  waited  for  the  other  to  come  to  him,  and 
Graham  came.  Like  two  gladiators  they  came  to 
gether.  Graham  realized  that  righting  in  the  pres 
ence  of  a  young  lady  was  not  gentlemanly,  yet  this 
young  lady's  secret  and  his  must  be  defended.  The 
eavesdropper  should  be  punished. 

Durand  as  Graham  came  up  struck  him  a  stinging 
blow  in  the  face.  Graham  winced,  backed  away  and 
came  at  him  again.  The  contest  was  short-lived. 
Graham,  vested  with  certain  tricks  of  boxing  for 
which  he  could  thank  his  college  days,  side  stepped 
as  Durand  struck  at  him  the  second  time.  The  mo 
mentum  of  the  blow  that  missed  Graham  half  turned 
Durand  around,  giving  Graham  the  chance  he 
sought.  His  muscular  body  contracted  in  every 
sinew  as  he  shot  his  fist  forward,  with  the  power 
and  quickness  of  a  piston.  Squarely  he  hit  the  other 
on  the  jaw.  He  fell  like  an  ox. 

"  Come,"  he  said  to  Olive.  "  I  will  take  you 
to  the  door." 

Her  arm  was  in  his  as  they  walked,  and  for  fear 
of  warning  the  inmates,  neither  spoke. 

"  Good  night,"  she  whispered  as  he  left. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          261 

"  Good  night,"  was  returned  and  her  hand  was 
again  in  his. 

He  went  back  to  see  how  it  fared  with  the  man 
he  had  struck.  He  looked  in  vain  for  him.  The 
man  had  gone.  A  few  minutes  later  he  stopped 
at  the  Plaza  Hotel  where  he  had  left  Best.  Getting 
their  horses,  they  proceeded  homeward. 

Graham  told  Best  of  his  experiences,  especially 
of  the  eavesdropper  whom  he  had  struck.  "  I  won 
der  who  he  was,  and  how  he  found  his  way  there,'* 
said  Graham. 

"  He  is  in  love  with  the  girl  of  course,"  said 
Best,  "  and  I  can  add  considerable  to  your  story. 
I  sat  on  the  veranda  of  the  Plaza,  ogled  at  the 
French  girls  and  a  few  natives,  besides.  I  amused 
myself  thus  and  in  smoking,  wondering  how  it 
fared  with  you  and  if  you  would  not  come  soon, 
when  my  attention  was  attracted  to  a  man  who 
came  slowly  and  in  a  dazed  way  up  the  veranda 
steps.  His  chin  was  cut  by  a  blow  and  he  tottered 
when  he  walked.  I  reached  out  and  taking  his  arm 
conducted  him  inside.  He  was  more  or  less  dazed, 
but  thanked  me  for  my  service.  The  strange  part 
and  the  one  that  will  interest  you  most  is  this. 
The  porter  took  him  to  his  room,  while  I  dropped 
over  to  the  office  and  inquired  of  the  hotel  clerk 
his  name." 


262          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  And  it  was — "  asked  Graham. 

"  Herbert  Durand,"  said  Best. 

"  The  man  I  seek  and  whom  I  will  meet  again," 
was  Graham's  comment,  as  he  shut  his  teeth  to 
gether. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          263 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FOR  a  day  Durand  meditated.  This  meditation 
took  place  at  the  Plaza  Hotel.  He  had  not  ventured 
out  of  his  room  for  a  good  reason,  namely  that  a 
certain  cut  on  his  chin  caused  by  the  contact  of 
Graham's  fist  was  a  menace  to  his  pride.  He  could 
not  stand  any  charring  from  the  Devil  Worshippers, 
with  whom  the  hotel  was  well  filled  already,  while 
every  incoming  steamer  was  bringing  more.  He 
knew  those  with  whom  he  had  become  acquainted 
would  mercilessly  chaff  him  regarding  his  abrased 
chin,  asking  him  the  identity  of  the  woman  whose 
lover  or  husband  was  responsible  for  it.  So  he 
wisely  stayed  in  his  room,  eating  his  meals  alone. 
He  had  told  the  waiter  to  explain  that  he  was  in 
disposed  and  could  see  no  one. 

All  day  long  one  thing  was  ever  before  him,  and 
that  was  how  best  to  solve  the  problem  of  his 
love  for  the  girl,  how  to  possess  her.  He  did 
not  doubt  but  he  would,  but  how  was  the  burning 
question.  There  was  more  than  one  way  to  do  it. 
He  could  win  her  favor,  and  he  was  sure  he  would 
when  once  he  mentioned  to  her  the  fact  of  his 


264         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

wealth.  This  Abbess  would  be  attracted  by  the 
tinsel  show  of  money,  and  if  she  was  interested  or 
concerned  that  would  also  influence  her.  That  Olive 
had  a  lover  he  cared  not.  From  their  conversation 
he  had  divined  that  this  meeting  he  overheard  was 
their  first,  and  he  as  a  strong  competitor  with  money 
would  easily  distance  this  young  hard-fisted  lover, 
before  he  and  the  girl  had  formed  anything  of  an 
attachment.  He  believed  his  case,  as  he  made  it 
look,  was  invulnerable,  and  nothing  could  step  be 
tween  him  and  the  girl.  Such  was  the  man's  con 
ceit,  that  in  his  ardency  he  asked  himself  who  in 
deed,  yes,  who  would  reject  him? 

From  his  chair  he  viewed  himself  in  the  mirror 
opposite  and  commented :  "  Well,  I  am  not  so  bad- 
looking  either,"  and  he  was  not,  for  nature  had 
done  much  for  him,  and  his  life  had  been  fairly 
punctilious,  while  his  physique  was  excellent  to 
begin  with.  As  yet  he  retained  the  brisk  manner, 
the  clear  eye  of  a  younger  man,  and  he  must  be 
surely  forty-five.  Then  he  fell  to  thinking  what  he 
would  do  if  he  failed  in  his  love-making.  He  smiled 
as  he  remembered  how  once  before  he  secured  his 
own  way,  and  the  manner  pursued  to  gain  it.  The 
abduction  of  Olive  James  years  before  now  brought 
to  his  mind  the  feasibility  of  such  a  scheme.  What 
mattered  it  here  if  he  did?  Should  the  Abbess  ob 
ject  to  him,  he  would  defy  her  authority  and  ab- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          265 

duct  the  girl,  carrying  her  away  as  a  brigand  steals 
his  bride  or  a  Boloman  invades  the  hut  of  his  step 
father  at  night  and  carries  off  his  choice.  "  Real 
romance,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  most  girls  would 
take  to  it  without  protest."  While  he  never  thought 
he  would  resort  to  this  latter  and  more  violent 
measure,  he  resolved  to  do  it  if  necessary. 

Having  kept  to  his  room  for  the  day,  on  the  fol 
lowing  morning  his  chin  being  much  better,  the 
swelling  having  subsided  and  the  abrasion  started 
to  heal,  he  started  forth  to  carry  out  the  first  part  of 
his  scheme.  He  might  have  waited  for  his  chin  to 
further  heal,  but  he  did  not.  Ordinarily  a  patient 
man  and  willing  to  await  the  opportunity  of  cir 
cumstance,  yet  in  this  matter  he  lost  his  usual  dis 
cretion.  He  would  call  on  the  Abbess.  He  would 
plead  for  a  chance  to  pay  his  attentions  to  the  girl. 
He  would  ask  to  see  the  girl.  Inspired  by  her 
presence  he  would  plead  his  cause  with  an  energy 
that  would  be  convincing.  He  would  expatiate  on 
the  advantages  of  wealth,  he  would  make  word 
pictures  of  a  future  which  the  fancy  of  any  young 
girl  could  not  resist.  These  thoughts  consumed 
him,  as  he  walked  along  toward  the  convent.  He 
boldly  walked  up  to  the  entrance  and  pulled  the 
knocker.  The  door  opened.  A  nun  admitted  him 
and  inquired  his  business. 

"  I  would  see  the  Abbess,"  he  said. 


266         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  nun  left  to  summon  her,  while  he  dropped 
into  a  seat  in  the  corridor.  A  few  minutes  later, 
— the  interval  had  been  used  by  Durand  to  brush 
up  his  eloquence,  thinking  what  he  would  say, — the 
Abbess  appeared,  followed  by  the  same  nun  who 
had  admitted  Durand,  and  who  remained  during 
the  interview. 

As  the  Abbess's  glances  fell  on  Durand  a  great 
whiteness  overspread  her  face.  She  bowed  her  head 
before  him  and  looked  at  the  floor. 

"What  would  you  with  me?" 

He  was  a  bit  flustered  in  the  presence  of  the  holy 
women.  He  stammered  as  he  answered,  "  My  name 
is  Durand,  Herbert  Durand." 

She  cringed  as  he  mentioned  his  name.  There 
was  no  attempt  then  to  disguise  his  right  name. 
She  marveled  at  his  boldness  in  using  his  own 
name,  knowing  the  extent  of  his  crimes  so  well. 

"  I  come  to  see  you  on  important  matters,"  he 
said.  Without  raising  her  eyes,  she  answered, 
"  You  may  state  them." 

His  courage  rose.  "  You  have  a  girl,  a  young 
lady  here,  I  think.  Her  name  I  do  not  know.  I 
saw  her  with  you  one  day.  You  will  remember 
me.  Do  you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  came  the  faint  reply,  "  I  remember  you." 

"  I  will  be  frank  indeed  as  is  my  nature,  Abbess. 
There  are  many  foolish  notions  that  enter  the  minds 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          267 

of  people.  These  come  oft  to  the  young.  I  am 
no  longer  of  the  callow  age,  and  yet  I  tell  you  that 
on  the  day  when  I  saw  this  beautiful  young  woman 
with  you,  I  fell  in  love  with  her.  This  passion  I 
have  not  experienced  before.  So  at  my  age  and 
considering  that  I  have  never  felt  this  before,  my 
declaration  should  carry  much  weight."  He  waited 
for  an  answer.  None  came.  He  continued,  "  That 
a  disparity  exists  in  our  ages  is  true.  A  mature 
mind,  however,  provided  that  mind  has  been  well 
nurtured  in  goodness  and  sobriety  can  but  have  an 
elevating  effect  on  a  young  lady.  If  I  speak  ard 
ently  or  am  presumptuous  it  is  because  a  passion 
within  prompts  or  speaks  in  my  stead.  Abbess,  I 
would  that  you  consent  that  I  pay  attention  to  this 
young  lady.  Before  you  answer,  consider  well  what 
the  effect  of  that  answer  may  be  on  our  future. 
Consider  the  future  of  this  girl.  Consider  even 
your  servant  before  you  who  asks  for  himself  that 
his  great  desire  go  not  unsatisfied." 

The  Abbess  was  as  yet  sjlent.  Durand,  believ 
ing  that  his  eloquence  must  be  moving  her,  con 
tinued.  "  Another  thing,  Abbess,  another  thing. 
You  will  pardon  me  for  mentioning  it,  yet  why 
not,  for  it  is  vital.  I  am  rich.  Your  ward  with 
me  would  have  all  the  advantages  that  wealth  could 
procure,  all  the  desires  of  her  heart  would  be 
satisfied,  all  her  days  made  glad." 


268          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

For  the  first  time,  the  Abbess  made  answer  to 
his  plea.  She  had  stood  all  this  time  with  bent 
head.  This  was  for  a  purpose,  but  he  attributed  it 
to  a  sort  of  self-sanctity  or  abnegation  of  the  order 
which  compelled  it.  So  he  divined  not  that  she 
was  concealing  her  face,  lest  he  recognize  her. 

Her  answer  was.  "  Money  can  do  much, — much 
wickedness  is  done  to  procure  and  enjoy  it.  Yet 
does  one  justify  the  other?" 

Her  answer  was  a  sort  of  enigma  to  him  and  he 
made  no  effort  to  solve  the  question  she  had  asked. 
Rather  he  took  up  her  statement  that  money  can  do 
much  and  proceeded.  "  Money  can  do  much.  It 
is  the  source  of  happiness,  the  goal  of  life."  His 
sophistry  led  him  on.  "  It  brings  greatness.  It 
brings  fame.  In  the  story  of  the  Bible  we  find 
Solomon  especially  mentioned,  and  for  what  ?  Was 
it  his  wisdom  that  gained  this  consideration?  No, 
for  the  space  used  to  tell  of  his  wisdom  is  small, 
while  that  used  to  tell  of  his  wealth  is  spacious. 
Here  indeed  is  an  exemplification  of  the  point  I 
would  make.  You  see  it,  don't  you?" 

"  Not  exactly  as  you  do,"  said  the  Abbess  evas 
ively." 

"  Then,  Abbess,  I  will  go  further.  I  will  appeal 
to  you  as  a  woman,  rather  than  one  of  Holy  Orders. 
There  are  many  things  in  life  you  as  an  inmate  here 
have  been  denied, — a  home,  a  husband,  children 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          269 

and  the  joy  of  rearing  them.  Would  you  deny 
your  ward  this?  " 

Durand  paused,  surprised  at  his  own  eloquence 
and  the  ability  he  displayed  in  pictorial  argument, 
in  expressing  sentiments  that  were  foreign  to  his 
nature. 

The  Abbess  stood  as  one  petrified.  She  would 
hear  him  out,  she  thought,  before  answering  him. 
As  he  finished  his  last  appeal,  she  waited  to  see  if  he 
had  finished  and  as  he  did  not  continue  she  spoke. 
"  God  forbid  that  I  should  stand  between  the  girl, 
and  a  pleasant  future,  yet  you  have  asked  my  con 
sent  to  pay  her  addresses  without  knowing  her  name 
or  anything  of  her  past.  Would  you  care  to  know  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Durand  believing  the  Abbess  was 
granting  him  favor  and  his  case  was  clear.  "  I 
would  that  you  tell  me  her  name  and  of  her  past." 

The  Abbess  raised  her  face  and  looked  him 
squarely  in  the  eyes.  "  Her  name  is  Olive  James. 
As  to  her  past,  she  was  robbed  in  infancy  by  Her 
bert  Durand,  the  man  who  now  would  wed  her. 
Would  you  know  more  of  my  past  ?  If  so,  my  name 
was  once  Helen  Reed." 

He  never  faltered  as  this  woman  looked  upon 
him.  Had  he  been  different,  a  pure  and  holy  wo 
man's  gaze  would  have  dispelled  the  evil  in  him, 
even  if  temporarily,  and  made  him  truthful,  but 
not  he.  Unflinchingly  he  looked  her  in  the  eye, 


270         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

and  said :  "  Olive  James  was  kidnapped.  I 
searched  for  her.  I  found  the  child  had  been  placed 
in  a  convent.  She  was  dead.  I  searched  for  you 
to  inform  you  of  this,  but  you  could  not  be  found." 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  Abbess.  "  She  was  abducted 
by  your  orders  that  you  might  gain  her  wealth. 
For  this  same  reason  she  was  placed  in  a  convent 
and  by  your  orders.  The  register  was  falsified  by 
your  emissaries  to  read  that  she  had  died.  This 
gave  you  her  money,  at  least  you  kept  it.  The 
woman  who  did  your  bidding  was  the  one  who  gave 
the  coins  to  my  children  a  few  days  since  as  we 
returned  from  yon  Mount.  I  did  not  scrutinize 
her  then,  although  I  did  you,  but  I  recall  her  yellow 
hair  as  belonging  to  the  woman  who  followed  Olive 
and  I  the  day  she  was  abducted.  It  is  time  for  you 
to  retire  as  your  perfidy,  known  to  me,  forfeits  any 
right  to  pay  Olive  your  attentions." 

"  Abbess,"  he  said,  "  I  swear  to  you  I  am  not 
guilty  as  you  accuse." 

"  Nay,"  she  said,  "  swear  not,  nor  call  upon  God 
to  witness  your  lie,  for  lie  it  is.  Be  gone,  sir." 

Those  most  arrogant  are  always  sure  of  the  gul 
libility  of  others.  Durand  was  not  baffled.  He  had 
been  much  surprised  at  the  turn  of  things,  but  his 
training  and  nature  stood  him  in  good  value,  and  he 
appeared  unruffled  at  the  sudden  revelation  that  in 
this  girl  he  loved  was  returned  the  one  who  had 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          271 

been  the  victim  of  his  former  pilferings.  He  had 
met  it  calmly  as  any  cold-blooded  villain  might, 
and  now  after  lying  to  the  Abbess  and  denying 
that  he  had  abducted  Olive  or  been  responsible  for 
it,  he  thought  it  best  to  change  his  tactics.  As  we 
said,  in  his  conceit  he  never  thought  the  Abbess 
would  suspect  his  next  move.  He  argued  that  her 
religious  inductions  were  such  that  her  judgment 
might  be  hampered.  He  would  lie  to  her  again,  this 
time  successfully. 

"  Abbess/'  he  said  meekly,  "  why  I  just  lied 
to  you,  I  do  not  know,  yet  I  confess  I  did,  for  I 
was  responsible  for  the  girl's  abduction.  I  did  it 
all.  I  plead  guilty.  Never  until  now  have  I  known 
a  pleasant  moment  since  then,  a  moment  devoid  of 
conscious  pangs  of  guilt.  My  story  is  a  strange 
one,  yet  'tis  true.  For  many  years  I  have  been  in 
search  of  the  girl  that  I  might  repair  the  damage 
done  her,  that  I  might  make  reparation  for  my  sin. 
Search  where  I  could,  I  did  not  find  her.  On  a 
most  slight  clue  I  came  here.  My  search  was  re 
warded." 

"  And  the  blonde  woman,  she  too  helped  in  the 
search?" 

"  Aye,  she  did,"  said  Durand  boldly  and  unmind 
ful  of  the  insinuation  of  the  Abbess.  "  She  came 
to  assist  in  establishing  the  identity  of  the  girl, 
should  I  find  her." 


272          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Abbess,  as  if  to  draw  him  on. 

"  I  have  been  in  this  city  many  months,"  said 
Durand.  "  Some  time  ago  I  discovered  Olive.  I 
have  followed  her  about  and  in  the  times  I  have 
seen  her  I  have  learned  to  love  her.  The  meeting 
the  other  day  when  the  coins  were  distributed  was 
not  accidental.  It  was  by  design.  We  knew  you 
were  up  in  the  mountains.  As  I  have  said  I  came 
here  to  make  reparation.  I  end  by  falling  in  love 
with  the  object  of  my  former  sin,  whom  now  I 
would  make  the  beneficiary  of  my  sober  thoughts 
and  good  and  anxious  desires,  and  restore  to  her 
her  own.  I  would  repay  all  money  her  due,  and  ask 
her  to  be  my  wife.  Until  now  I  intended  wooing1  her 
as  an  unknown  and  afterwards  tell  her  of  my 
identity.  But  you  remembered  me,  making  this  im 
possible.  Now  I  confess  to  all  you  accuse  me  of, 
and  I  come  penitently  and  contritely  into  your 
presence,  asking  that  my  suit  may  have  your  sanc 
tion." 

"  It  has  it  not,"  said  the  Abbess,  speaking  with 
some  heat.  "  Your  confession  is  true,  but  your  con- 
triteness  is  a  lie  and  an  addition  to  your  plot  since 
you  found  out  the  identity  of  the  girl  you  claim  to 
have  loved  at  first  sight, — a  love  that  is  probably 
only  an  unholy  passion  at  the  best." 

"  Then  you  refuse  me  my  request  ?  " 

"Yes,  decidedly." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER  273 

He  picked  up  his  hat  and  started  to  withdraw. 

"  Woman,"  he  said,  "  woman,  I  outwitted  you 
once  and  took  this  girl.  I  will  do  it  again,"  and 
by  way  of  emphasis  he  swore  a  great  oath  as  he 
withdrew. 

The  Abbess  and  nun  crossed  themselves  as  he  ut 
tered  the  oath.  By  way  of  revilement  he  made 
the  sign  of  the  forked  tail.  The  women  did  not 
understand  this,  and  they  thought  it  a  mockery  of 
their  sign  of  the  cross,  or  a  token  in  revilement  of 
the  same. 

The  Abbess  turned  to  the  nun  with  her. 

"  You  may  tell  Olive  I  will  see  her  here  at  once. 
She  is  out  in  the  garden  somewhere." 

A  little  later  the  Abbess  and  Olive  were  in  the 
latter's  room.  The  Abbess  commenced  thus. 
"  Olive,  you  have  never  asked  me  concerning  your 
parents.  You  know  naught  of  them,  save  what  I 
have  volunteered." 

"  No,  mamma,"  she  said.  This  name  was  only 
spoken  when  the  two  were  alone.  "  I  often  wonder 
concerning  myself  and  my  parents.  I  would  like 
to  know  of  them.  Tell  me,  if  you  will." 

Then  the  Abbess  told  her  every  detail  of  her 
past  life  so  far  as  she  knew  it, — told  her  of  her 
father,  of  the  love  affair  that  was  between  them, 
and  how  they  had  parted,  but  omitting  to  give  the 
reason.  Of  her  mother,  the  Abbess  knew  little,  save 
18 


274          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

that  she  was  rich,  and  died  leaving  her  husband  a 
large  fortune.  Then  she  told  of  the  father's  death, 
of  his  friend,  one  Herbert  Durand,  who  had  been 
his  friend  and  was  made  the  custodian  of  the  wealth 
that  fell  to  Olive.  She  traced  every  event  from  that 
time  down  to  the  present  with  minute  precision, 
ending  up  by  telling  her  that  the  man  they  had  seen 
in  the  company  of  the  woman  who  had  thrown  the 
coins  to  the  children  was  none  other  than  this  man 
Durand.  She  mentioned  his  visit  of  this  day  and 
the  object  of  that  visit. 

As  she  mentioned  that  Durand  wished  to  court 
her,  Olive  shuddered.  "  Not  him,  not  him, 
mamma,"  she  gasped. 

The  Abbess  said,  "  For  a  long  time  I  have  felt 
I  owed  you  this  explanation,  and  I  have  refrained 
from  telling  you  for  the  reason  of  the  money  that 
awaits  you  in  New  York  or  those  securities  I  left 
there  so  many  years  ago.  I  wanted  you  to  grow  up 
in  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  you  were  rich.  I  be 
lieved  it  might  warp  your  mind  and  alter  your 
propensities.  Now  the  time  seemed  propitious,  and 
so  I  tell  you.  Besides  you  will  soon  be  twenty- 
one  and  can  possess  this  money  that  awaits  you." 

Here  she  handed  Olive  a  well-worn  receipt,  yel 
lowed  with  age,  the  receipt  she  had  received  from 
the  bank  for  the  securities  so  many  years  ago. 

Olive  took  it,  looked  it  over  as  in  a  dream,  and 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          275 

then  put  it  in  her  bosom,  placed  her  arm  about  the 
Abbess's  neck  and  kissed  her.  "  I  am  so  glad, 
mamma,  I  am  rich,  for  I  can  help  you  with  your 
work  here  in  the  future." 

"  But  you  are  not  a  Catholic?  " 

"  No,  but  I  will  help  you  just  the  same." 

"  Oh,"  the  Abbess  said,  "  if  there  were  only  some 
good  man  in  whose  care  I  could  place  you,  it  would 
help  me  just  now.  Mr.  Graham  is  dead,  I  have 
learned  from  a  New  York  paper.  Now  none  alive 
so  far  as  I  know  is  aware  that  I  ever  lived  or 
that  you  have  existed,  but  the  receipt  will  satisfy 
that  point." 

Olive  started.    "  Who  is  dead?  "  she  asked. 

"  Mr.  Graham ;  he  was  the  president  of  this 
bank." 

"  Oh,"  said  Olive.  But  she  did  not  mention  the 
young  man  who  bore  the  same  name. 

"  If,"  the  Abbess  continued,  "  I  could  only  find 
some  man  who  could  be  trusted  I  would  have  him 
look  after  you  and  your  affairs." 


276         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  night  Graham  had  visited  Olive  in  the 
garden,  his  parting  had  been  so  precipitous  that  he 
had  forgotten  to  speak  of  a  future  meeting.  Best 
questioned  him  about  it  and  learned  the  facts. 

"  Say,"  said  Best,  "  if  I  have  to  make  the  dates 
for  you  I  may  decide  to  take  a  hand  in  the  court 
ing  on  my  own  account.  Well,  this  means  that 
Francisco  has  another  job  that  will  not  tax  his 
memory." 

"What?"  asked  Graham. 

"  Well,  don't  you  know  if  Francisco  forgets  to 
lock  the  gate  it  does  not  mean  he  has  to  remember, 
for  you  know  his  memory  is  very  poor,  very  poor." 

"  I  don't  like  this,"  said  Graham.  "  I  am  afraid 
that  others  beside  this  man  Durand  might  invade 
the  garden  and  our  secret  be  made  known  to  the 
Abbess." 

Best  replied :  "  I  will  admit  that  garden  parties, 
even  with  only  two  in  a  convent  garden,  are  rather 
ticklish  affairs.  Say,  Harold,  why  don't  you  and 
the  girl  go  for  a  drive?" 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          277 

"  Durand  may  have  notified  the  Abbess  of  our 
meeting." 

"  Well,  we  can  try  again  and  find  out." 

The  following  day  another  five  francs  found  its 
way  into  old  Francisco's  pocket  and  another  note 
was  delivered  to  Olive.  That  night  the  two  men 
drove  along  down  the  Rue  Victor  Hugo,  made  a 
turn  or  two,  and  finally  stopped  at  a  corner  next 
below  the  convent.  Graham  alighted  and  walked 
slowly  up  the  street  toward  the  gate,  by  which  he 
had  gained  admission  to  the  grounds  before.  He 
was  more  discreet  this  time,  as  the  advent  of  Du 
rand  had  increased  his  desire  that  none  observe  him. 
He  walked  up  and  down  several  times  before  he 
put  his  hand  to  the  gate.  Each  time  he  scanned 
the  palms  and  mangoes  that  lined  the  walk  to 
see  that  no  one  lurked  behind  them.  An  electric 
light  from  the  street  corner  above  shed  its 
light  dimly  upon  the  scene.  After  he  had  walked 
the  distance  so  many  times  he  thought  he  must  be 
quite  alone.  Best  was  driving  the  horse  up  and 
down  the  street  below,  visible  to  Graham  as  he 
crossed  the  intersecting  street  above  the  convent. 

He  quickly  and  boldly  walked  to  the  gate  and 
opening  it  stepped  inside.  Making  his  way  to 
the  place  he  had  met  Olive  before,  he  was  glad  to 
see  her  white  dress  even  before  he  was  close  to 
her.  Her  presence  assured  him  that  the  Abbess 


278          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

was  still  unaware  that  love-making  was  now  an 
addition  to  the  curriculum  of  the  convent.  They 
greeted  each  other  pleasantly,  without  any  show  of 
the  affection  that  both  felt  so  keenly. 

Let  it  be  said  that  Olive,  though  unsophisti 
cated  in  love  affairs  more  than  anything  else  per 
haps,  had  a  discernment  that  easily  saw  in  Gra 
ham  sterling  worth  and  character  with  which  the 
heroes  of  the  stories  she  had  read  were  endowed. 
While  from  the  first  she  had  in  her  heart  a  bit  of  de 
sire  for  a  small  romance,  yet  she  had  found  on  their 
short  acquaintance  that  Graham  was  ever  in  her 
mind.  She  was  not  foolish  enough  to  be  completely 
infatuated  with  a  man  whom  she  had  seen  but  thrice 
and  spoken  with  twice,  yet  she  felt  a  desire  to  know 
him  better,  and  out  of  necessity  she  had  concluded 
to  see  him  secretly.  Why  not?  He  was  a  man 
to  be  trusted  and  she  was  no  weak  girl.  Francisco 
had  given  her  the  note  just  before  the  Abbess  had 
summoned  her,  and  with  a  fast-beating  heart  she 
had  answered  it,  believing  the  Abbess  knew  of 
Graham's  visit  to  her.  She  was  therefore  sur 
prised  when  the  Abbess  did  not  mention  this,  but 
something  else  of  importance  to  her. 

When  the  Abbess  had  expressed  a  desire  to  know 
a  good  man  to  whom  could  be  entrusted  Olive's 
affairs,  she  naturally  had  thought  of  Graham  and 
hoped  that  affairs  would  shape  themselves  in  his 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          279 

favor.  Yet  she  resolved  not  to  tell  him  of  the 
dowry  that  awaited  her,  at  least  not  yet,  nor  of 
Durand's  request  to  pay  her  homage.  Afterwards 
she  read  her  note  and  waited  for  the  hour  to  come 
to  go  out  and  meet  her  lover. 

She  was  in  the  garden  and  saw  him  pacing  the 
walk  before  he  entered.  She  admired  his  figure, 
even  in  the  poor  light.  She  admired  his  discretion 
in  making  sure  no  one  was  in  sight  before  he  en 
tered.  She  was  thinking  what  a  noble,  painstaking, 
careful  young  man  he  was, — how  modest  and  brave. 
Surely  he  must  also  be  good.  His  bravery  she  had 
noticed  when  he  tackled  the  eavesdropper,  who 
must  have  seen  him  enter  and  out  of  curiosity 
followed  on.  Who  was  this  intruder  she  was  ask 
ing  herself,  when  she  heard  the  slight  click  of  the 
gate,  and  Graham  came  toward  her. 

Graham  explained  to  Olive  that  in  view  of  the 
prowler  they  had  encountered  before,  it  would  be 
better  to  drive  about  the  city.  For  this  purpose,  he 
explained  his  friend  Best  had  the  horse  and  cart 
in  readiness  on  the  street  below.  To  leave  the 
grounds  at  first  frightened  Olive,  but  the  romantic 
side  of  the  drive  about  the  city,  the  intoxication 
of  the  Southern  trade-wind  that  bore  with  it  the 
scent  from  a  myriad  of  tropical  plants  and  blos 
soming  trees  served  Graham's  purpose,  and  she 
quickly  consented. 


280          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Going  out  the  gate,  they  made  for  the  corner 
below.  In  passing  down  the  long  half  block  to 
the  corner  they  met  a  man  whose  figure  Graham 
felt  sure  was  that  of  Durand.  If  it  were  he,  he 
appeared  not  to  notice  them,  but  had  Graham 
watched  him  he  would  have  seen  him  turn  quickly 
once  they  had  passed  and  ferociously  look  in  his 
wake,  then  step  behind  a  tree  to  watch.  But  Gra 
ham  did  not  look  back  for  the  reason  that  he  did 
not  wish  to  alarm  Olive.  She  had  not  mentioned 
the  man  they  met  and  he  would  not.  Once  they  were 
away  from  the  convent  or  outside  its  precincts 
there  was  no  cause  for  feeling  timid,  so  they  boldly 
met  Best,  who  stepped  from  the  cart  and  handed  the 
lines  to  Graham.  Best  then  found  his  way  to  the 
Plaza  hotel  afoot  where  he  sat  on  the  veranda 
again,  and  flirted  with  the  women.  Later  he  saw 
Durand  enter  the  hotel. 

Durand  had  been  watching  that  small  gate  of  the 
convent  grounds  every  night  since  his  encounter 
there  with  Graham,  with  a  vengeance  born  of  jeal 
ousy.  His  knowledge  of  these  meetings  between 
Olive  and  Graham,  he  had  this  day  concluded,  was 
the  pivotal  point  of  his  suit.  He  had  planned  be 
fore  that  should  the  Abbess  refuse  him  his  request, 
he  would  have  Olive  in  spite  of  her. 

This  night  in  question  happened  to  be  the  one 
following  the  day  the  Abbess  had  granted  his  in- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          281 

terview  and  naturally  he  was  sore  and  chafing  from 
her  decision  and  her  words  of  condemnation.  He 
had  not  arrived  near  the  convent  in  time  to  see 
Graham  enter  the  gate,  but  he  did  see  him  and  this 
girl  come  forth  and  watched  them  go  away  with 
the  horse  and  cart  which  Best  held  in  readiness. 

He  waited  for  them  to  return,  but  as  they  did 
not  come  at  once,  he  having  perfected  plans  whereby 
he  expected  to  bring  about  what  he  wanted,  retired 
from  the  scene,  and  Best  saw  him  as  he  returned. 

Graham  returned  that  night  in  great  spirits. 
Driving  had  solved  the  matter  of  how  he  was  to 
enjoy  Olive's  society.  He  did  not  like  interviews 
in  the  garden.  There  was  about  it  a  suggestion 
of  things  not  entirely  decorous;  there  was  about 
it  a  suggestion  of  things  clandestine,  as  he  called  it 
to  Best.  Here  in  the  city  the  populace  drove  much 
by  night,  as  the  days  are  very  hot,  and  they  were 
doing  nothing  extraordinary.  It  was  a  way  out 
that  Graham  enjoyed.  In  the  absence  of  Best  to 
act  as  groom  on  his  return,  he  had  found  a  native 
who  held  his  horse  while  he  escorted  Olive  back 
to  the  convent  gate,  she  asking  him  to  go  no  further 
as  she  was  not  afraid  to  go  to  the  convent  door 
alone. 

In  both  their  hearts  there  was  a  song  which 
swung  along  to  unspoken  words,  and  with  a  rhythm 
that  was  new  and  sweet.  This  drive  with  its  new 


282          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

experiences,  the  fact  they  were  together,  talking 
to  one  another  was  enough  to  satisfy  both.  Gra 
ham  had  loved  the  girl  from  the  start,  and  she  now 
was  learning  to  care  greatly  for  him.  In  fact  this 
night  had  revealed  to  her  how  much  she  cared. 
Here  were  two  level-headed  young  people  fast  taking 
on  enhancing  love  and  respect  for  each  other,  with 
never  as  yet  a  word  of  love  breathed  between  them, 
— both  content  to  let  the  affair  take  on  its  own 
aspect,  yet  confident  that  in  the  end  they  would  be 
satisfied  with  the  turn  of  fortune's  wheel.  Fate 
was  beckoning  them  on  to  the  reward  that  would 
be  theirs,  and  they  seemed  to  feel  it  and  chafed 
not  under  the  delay.  Many  times  Graham  had 
wanted  to  declare  his  love  to  the  girl  this  evening, 
yet  had  not  done  so  by  sheer  force  of  will  power, 
for  he  felt  it  was  not  right  to  the  girl,  and  more 
over  a  travesty  on  the  rules  of  a  convent  to  win 
a  wife  in  spite  of  its  brick  walls  and  iron  palings. 
Nor  was  it  fair  to  the  Abbess.  Then  he  argued, 
why  not  see  the  Abbess?  He  would.  Yes,  in  a 
short  time  he  would. 

He  had  not  forgotten  to  speak  to  Olive  about  the 
next  meeting,  and  it  was  arranged  that  on  the  fol 
lowing  night  but  one,  they  would  again  drive.  Ac 
cordingly  on  this  night  again,  he  and  Best  drove 
into  the  city.  Graham  was  in  high  spirits,  while 
Best  not  unmindful  of  this,  asked  him  how  much 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          283 

longer  the  affair  would  continue  in  its  present 
status. 

"  It  will  soon  change,"  Graham  replied,  as  he 
thought  of  his  intention  to  soon  interview  the  Ab 
bess. 

The  affair  did  assume  a  different  demeanor  and 
at  once.  He  reached  the  convent  grounds.  He 
met  Olive  in  the  usual  place  and  the  two  quietly 
moved  toward  the  gate.  Aside  from  salutations, 
nothing  had  been  spoken.  Reaching  the  gate,  Gra 
ham  opened  it  carefully,  as  he  had  been  careful  to 
close  it  when  entering.  Olive  stepped  forward,  he 
following.  As  he  reached  the  center  of  the  gate, 
his  course  was  arrested.  A  hand  shot  out  toward 
him  and  a  voice  said,  "  Tit  for  tat,  my  young  friend. 
It  is  my  turn  this  time." 

The  impact  of  the  blow  sent  him  backward  to 
the  ground  where  he  lay  without  moving. 

The  same  strong  hand  was  placed  over  Olive's 
mouth,  while  an  arm  encircled  her  body.  She  was 
picked  from  the  ground  and  carried  a  distance 
where  her  captor  stepped  into  a  waiting  carriage, 
with  her  still  in  his  arms. 


284          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  night  Graham  and  Olive  took  their  first 
drive  Durand,  as  he  entered  the  Plaza  hotel,  where 
Best  saw  him,  went  at  once  to  his  room.  He  rang 
the  electric  bell  for  a  porter.  The  night  porter  he 
had  noticed  was  a  man  of  forty-five,  a  light  com- 
plexioned  native,  who  answered  all  calls  promptly 
and  obeyed  all  commands  with  despatch.  Not  that 
he  had  an  inborn  desire  for  work,  but  he  did  have 
an  inborn  love  for  money  that  was  given  to  him 
as  tips  by  the  foreign  visitors.  These  tips  alone  ac 
counted  for  his  active  and  servile  inclinations. 

Durand  had  need  of  some  one  who  would  serve 
his  purpose.  This  porter,  Le  Tosco  by  name, 
seemed  to  him  the  first  one  he  would  consult,  hence 
the  summons  that  brought  the  money-loving  Le 
Tosco  to  his  room. 

Le  Tosco's  avariciousness  was  no  more  a  marked 
quality  in  him  than  in  a  majority  of  the  natives. 
They  developed  these  inclinations  as  a  necessary 
measure  against  the  foreigners  whose  commercial 
ism  encroached  upon  the  rights  of  the  natives. 

Durand  knew  of  this  inclination  of  Le  Tosco's 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          285 

and  thought  him  a  proper  person  to  invest  with  his 
proposed  affairs.  Durand  had  told  the  Abbess  he 
would  yet  defy  her  and  have  the  girl  Olive,  and  he 
had  concocted  a  scheme  whereby  this  might  be 
effected.  The  knowledge  that  Olive  took  drives 
with  the  young  American,  whose  name  he  did  not 
know,  had  assisted  him  materially  in  laying  out 
this  scheme.  Le  Tosco  or  some  one  Le  Tosco  knew 
would  furnish  additional  material  while  he,  Durand, 
would  see  to  the  rest. 

Le  Tosco  obeyed  the  summons  and  appeared  at 
once. 

"  Is  there  anything  you  want,  sir  ?  "  said  he  in 
the  most  suave  of  voices. 

"  Yes,"  said  Durand,  "  there  is  much  I  want. 
Sit  down  please,"  as  he  pointed  toward  a  chair. 
"  I  would  talk  with  you." 

Le  Tosco  obeyed.  Looking  up  as  he  was  seated, 
he  asked,  "  What  is  it,  sir?  I  am  waiting." 

The  fact  was,  Le  Tosco's  discernment,  sharpened 
by  avarice,  saw  ahead  possibilities  of  revenue.  He 
was  not  new  to  little  jobs  the  guests  wanted  done, 
nor  averse  to  doing  the  jobs,  providing  the  remuner 
ation  was  sufficient.  Such  an  one  as  he,  about  a 
hostelry  whose  patrons  were  foreigners  and  bent 
on  personal  enjoyment,  was  more  or  less  a  neces 
sity,  and  Le  Tosco  realizing  the  chances,  was  al 
ways  ready. 


286          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Durand  cleared  his  throat. 

"  The  facts  are.  Le  Tosco,  I  need  help." 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  purred  the  wily  porter,  as  he 
drew  his  small  fat  figure  together  and  twirled 
violently  upward  the  ends  of  his  mustache.  "  Yes, 
you  wish  something  done." 

"  Exactly,"  replied  Durand.  "  You  have  done 
things  for  others  before,  evidently." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  came  the  answer.  "  I  know  well 
what  it  is  to  serve  others.  Besides,  sir.  I  keep  a 
secret  well.  What  I  know  or  may  learn  is  as  se 
cure  as  though  it  happened  not  at  all." 

"  Good,"  said  Durand.  "  You  are  the  man  I 
want.  By  the  way,  are  you  married?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Good,  it  occurred  to  me  you  might  not  be,  and 
that  would  hinder  my  plans  somewhat." 

"  I  am  married,  sir,  and  live  on  the  Rue  St. 
Peter,  back  toward  the  mountain,  sir,  and  almost 
out  of  the  city." 

"  Good,  all  the  better  if  it  is  far  out." 

"  "What  may  I  do  for  you,  sir?     Explain." 

"  Well,"  said  Durand.  "  I  want  to  know  if  I 
can  bring  a  young  woman  to  your  home,  to  remain 
a  few  days.  A  wedding,  too,  will  take  place  there 
if  you  can  find  a  missionary  who  will  come  and 
perform  the  ceremony  for  us." 

"  Oh.  yes."  said  Le  Tosco,  "  many  missionaries 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          287 

from  America  and  Europe  come  here  in  hopes  of 
making  over  this  Catholic  island.  One  can  be 
found  no  doubt." 

"  One  thing  more,  Le  Tosco;  is  your  wife  as  tall 
and  muscular  as  the  native  women  generally  are?" 

"  Yes,  she  is  very  tall  and  strong,  but  why  do  you 
ask?" 

"  Oh,  this  girl  will  try  to  get  away  perhaps." 

"  Then  she  will  not  want  to  stay  with  us?  " 

"  That  is  it  exactly.  You  see  she  is  held  at  pres 
ent  by  a  person  who  pretends  to  be  her  friend. 
Really  I  am  her  only  true  friend.  She  believes  in 
the  other  and  will  try  to  get  away." 

"  My  wife  will  keep  her,"  said  he.  "  We  have 
a  room  in  which  she  can  be  kept  locked  until  you 
marry  her." 

"  Which  will  be  in  a  day  or  so,  or  as  soon  as  she 
consents,  which  she  will  when  once  she  knows  what 
I  can  do  for  her."  Such  was  Durand's  conceit, 
and  his  belief  in  the  power  of  money. 

"  And  monsieur,  monsieur,"  meekly  said  Le 
Tosco,  "  one  thing  you  forget." 

"  What  is  that?  "  asked  Durand. 

"  You  say  nothing  of  the  pay  we  are  to  re 
ceive?  Such  things  as  you  require  are  mighty 
ticklish  you  know.  The  police " 

"  Nonsense,"  broke  in  Durand.  "  There  are  no 
police  on  this  island  worthy  the  name,  but  as  for 


288          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

pay,  don't  worry.  How  would  one  hundred  francs, 
in  a  lump  sum,  suit  you?  " 

"  Ah,  grateful,  grateful,  sir,  would  both  my  wife 
and  I  be.  You  may  feel  secure  that  we  are  your 
servants  forever." 

"  Hold  yourself  in  readiness  then  any  night. 
Have  the  room  in  order  and  your  wife  at  home 
waiting,  for  perhaps  to-morrow  night  or  the  next 
or  the  next  we  will  come.  By  the  way,  Le  Tosco, 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  of  a  stable  where  I  can  get 
a  light  rig  and  a  driver  who,  like  yourself,  knows 
how  to  keep  silence.  I  want  such  a  man  as  a 
driver  especially.  I  will  bring  the  girl  with  a  car 
riage  and  I  want  such  a  man  as  I  have  named  to 
accompany  me." 

"  I  know  the  very  man  and  the  very  stable,"  said 
Le  Tosco. 

"  Then  engage  him  for  every  night  as  long  as  I 
shall  want  him.  He  may  call  for  me  to-morrow 
night  at  eight  and  so  on  until  I  get  the  girl." 

As  Durand  and  Le  Tosco  talked  they  heard  the 
sound  of  occasional  deep  inspirations  as  of  one 
breathing  hard.  As  Le  Tosco  was  about  to  with 
draw,  there  came  from  somewhere  the  rustle  of 
silk  as  if  a  woman  moved  about  near  by.  Durand 
also  heard,  but  presumed  it  to  be  some  guest  who 
by  accident  was  near  his  door  at  this  time. 

Thus  Durand  had  perfected  plans  for  controvert- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          289 

ing  the  Abbess's  authority.  Now  he  was  actuated 
by  a  double  purpose.  He  not  only  wanted  Olive 
because  he  fancied  he  loved  her,  but  he  liked  not 
this  young  lover  of  hers.  "  Suppose,"  he  thought, 
"  that  this  young  man  wins  her,  and  I  fail.  It  may 
please  his  fancy  to  make  inquiry  concerning  my 
stewardship  of  her  estate.  In  that  case  it  might 
grow  mighty  uncomfortable  for  me.  So  get  her  I 
must,  if  by  force."  He  chuckled  as  he  thought, — 
"  She  has  been  taken  that  way  before." 

He  planned,  if  he  could  once  get  Olive  in  his 
power,  he  as  a  man  of  age,  experience  and  especially 
wealth  could  easily  influence  her  mind  his  way. 
He  would  treat  her  with  every  respect  due  a  young 
woman ;  he  would  use  his  eloquence  effectively  in  his 
own  behalf,  believing  that  cajolery  when  properly 
presented,  with  the  chink  of  gold  accompanying, 
would  win  her.  That  she  might  resent  his  method 
of  courtship  he  never  considered,  nor  that  she  might 
frown  on  him  by  reason  of  the  great  wrong  he  had 
done  her  in  the  past.  No,  not  he ;  for  would  not  the 
money  again  be  at  his  command?  What  more 
could  she  want?  When  married  they  would  leave 
the  island,  forbearing  the  blessing  of  the  Abbess, — 
he  grinned — taking  the  first  steamer  to  any  port  its 
destination  might  lead.  Mademoiselle  Sara  would 
not  like  it!  Would  she  retaliate?  She  would  know 
nothing  of  the  affair  until  it  was  over,  and  her  re- 
19 


290          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

venge  would  come  too  late.  He  would  be  care 
ful,  however,  that  she  did  not  know.  This  grand 
soiree  of  the  Satanists  with  the  marriage  and  the 
accompanying  feast  he  would  give  up  witnessing. 
They  were  holding  their  nightly  meetings  in  prep 
aration  for  the  affair.  Mademoiselle  Sara  was  in 
training  as  it  were  with  her  satellites  for  the  affair 
that  was  not  far  off.  "  Let  them  train,"  he  solilo 
quized,  "  I  will  train  for  something  else, — for  the 
model  husband,  perhaps." 

The  evening  following  Le  Tosco's  call  on  Du- 
rand,  saw  Durand  in  the  vicinity  of  the  convent. 
He  had  the  carriage  call  for  him  at  the  Plaza.  They 
separated  when  near  the  convent,  Durand  alighting, 
and  bidding  the  driver  stay  near  by. 

For  an  hour  or  two  Durand  carefully  patrolled 
the  vicinity  ready  to  take  to  cover  behind  some 
friendly  tree,  should  any  one  appear,  the  driver 
going  aimlessly  about,  keeping  all  the  while  within 
earshot  or  sight  of  the  street  corners  above  or  be 
low  the  convent.  The  quest  was  without  fruit,  and 
Durand  found  himself  obliged  to  abandon  all  hopes 
of  meeting  Olive  this  night.  Not  daunted,  how 
ever,  the  next  night  he  again  took  up  the  hunt 
vigilantly,  and  waited.  He  took  care  that  his  horse 
and  the  driver  were  on  a  corner  farthest  from 
the  corner  where  Graham  had  stationed  his  rig  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          291 

night  before,  in  fact  Durand's  man  was  on  the 
corner  near  the  cathedral. 

Looking  down  through  the  darkness  between 
the  streets,  he  saw  Graham  come  up  carefully,  beat 
about  the  walk  for  eavesdroppers,  and  finally  enter 
the  garden,  going  through  the  little  gate  Durand 
had  discovered  a  few  nights  since. 

Motioning  his  driver  to  follow  carefully,  he 
ran  quietly  down  the  street,  keeping  in  the  grass 
that  bordered  the  walk,  so  his  footsteps  would  not 
be  heard.  He  was  none  too  soon,  for  as  he  reached 
the  gate,  the  girl  came  out.  She  saw  him,  but  aside 
from  her  dismay  that  they  were  detected  coming 
from  the  convent  ground,  she  felt  no  alarm  at  his 
presence.  These  thoughts  came  to  her  momentarily. 
Graham  at  once  stepped  out  behind  her.  No  sooner 
did  his  feet  touch  the  walk  at  her  side  than  she 
heard  the  stranger  utter  the  words  told  in  the 
previous  chapter,  and  saw  Graham  reel  and  fall 
from  the  great  blow  dealt  him.  She  was  lifted 
from  her  feet,  a  hand  placed  over  her  mouth  and 
she  was  taken  to  the  carriage  that  drew  up  at  the 
curb,  and  the  horses  were  sent  forward  at  a  rapid 
pace. 

She  struggled  to  free  herself,  struggled  to  get 
the  hand  from  her  mouth,  but  for  the  time  was 
unsuccessful.  She  saw  they  were  nearing  the  light 
below,  and  wondered  in  which  direction  they  were 


292          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

going  and  why  she  had  been  captured.  A  great 
fear  shook  her  frame,  not  the  fear  alone  that  came 
of  this  sudden  attack  or  the  sudden  knowledge  that 
she  was  again  abducted,  but  a  great  terror  came  to 
her  that  this  man  she  feared  most  was  her  captor, 
was  the  man  Durand.  Her  heart  sank  deep.  Then 
she  made  one  mighty  effort  to  free  herself  from 
her  abductor,  and  from  the  hand  that  made  artic 
ulation  impossible.  She  was  partially  successful  for 
Durand  was  off  his  guard  temporarily  and  a  sudden 
scream  rent  the  calm  night,  a  scream  that  carried 
with  it  abject  terror  and  fear.  The  scream,  how 
ever,  was  short  and  was  broken  off  suddenly  as 
the  hand  again  found  her  mouth. 

A  half  minute  later  and  she  was  conscious  that 
they  were  being  pursued.  She  plainly  heard  the  fall 
of  horse's  feet  behind  and  knew  the  horses  attached 
to  the  carriage  in  which  she  was  a  prisoner  were 
being  urged  faster  by  blows  and  loud  words. 

She  wondered  who  the  pursuer  was.  Graham 
was  probably  unconscious.  How  her  heart  ached 
for  his  safety.  It  could  not  be  he.  Then  she 
thought  of  Best,  Graham's  friend  who  was  with 
Graham's  horse.  He  had  heard  her  scream,  he 
had  known  something  was  wrong  and  was  now  in 
pursuit.  Would  he  overtake  them  ?  Oh  God ! 
She  hoped  so.  Better  to  die  than  be  in  Durand's 
hands  and  power. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          293 

So  he  wished  to  marry  her,  did  he,  and  would 
then  steal  her?  In  her  heart  there  arose  a  great 
hatred  for  this  man.  Marry  him?  Indeed  she 
would  die  first. 

The  race  she  knew  was  growing  exciting.  She 
was  held  in  her  captor's  arms  and  could  see  little 
that  was  going  on.  Yet  she  could  plainly  hear  the 
beat  of  a  horse's  hoofs  near  at  hand,  and  abreast  of 
them.  Their  driver  gave  out  a  great  oath,  and  she 
heard  the  swish  of  a  whip  through  the  air  and  knew 
that  her  rescuer's  horse  had  been  struck  a  stinging 
blow  across  the  face.  She  heard  the  horse  plunge 
and  rear  at  this.  She  heard  the  iron-shod  hoofs 
strike  the  pavement  harshly,  and  out  of  unison  with 
its  hoof  beats  when  it  was  running.  She  also  knew 
Durand  had  two  horses  while  her  would-be  rescuer 
had  but  one.  She  knew  from  the  absence  of  the 
breathing  that  this  horse  also  had  lost  ground  tem 
porarily.  It  was  only  temporarily,  however,  for  in 
a  second  she  knew  they  were  again  abreast.  Then 
something  happened. 

A  shot  rang  out.  A  shot,  true  and  effectual, 
from  Best's  revolver  found  its  speedy  way  through 
the  shoulder  of  the  horse  next  to  his  and  into  its 
vitals.  It  reared  high  in  the  air  and  fell,  rolling  over 
in  the  inextricable  meshes  of  the  harness  and  pulled 
its  companion  down  with  it,  where  the  two  lay, 
one  dead  and  the  other  struggling  violently. 


294          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  carriage  stopped,  so  suddenly  that  the  driver 
flew  out  on  the  pavement,  where  he  quickly  regained 
his  feet.  Durand  with  Olive  still  in  his  arms,  how 
ever,  held  to  the  wagon.  Durand's  strong  arm 
clutched  the  seat  in  front  and  saved  them  from  a 
fall. 

It  was  as  Olive  surmised.  Best  leisurely  driving 
about,  and  waiting  for  Graham  and  Olive  to  ap 
pear,  saw  the  carriage  come  from  the  street  he 
expected  them,  and  while  curious  he  thought  noth 
ing  of  it  until  Olive's  scream  drew  him  on.  There 
was  no  other  way,  he  thought,  but  for  him  to  rescue 
Olive.  Graham  might  be  dead.  Any  way  he  was 
not  there,  and  Best  felt  himself  called  upon 
for  heroic  action.  So  he  pursued,  and  having  no 
way  whereby  he  might  hope  to  capture  Olive,  he 
thought  of  his  revolver,  as  he  rushed  forward. 
He  seldom  carried  it,  yet  to-night  he  remembered 
the  trouble  Graham  had  had  a  few  nights  before, 
and  saying  nothing  had  placed  it  in  his  pocket, 
thinking  it  might  prove  of  assistance  should  any 
thing  contrary  to  their  hopes  and  plans  arise. 

As  he  saw  the  dilemma  in  which  he  had  placed 
the  abductor  of  Olive,  he  also  saw  his  own  position 
was  not  entirely  tenable.  It  was  two  to  one  he 
knew,  and  while  he  had  his  revolver,  yet  the  horse 
was  an  impediment  he  did  not  like.  He  went 
by  them  as  the  other  horses  fell,  and  slowing  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          295 

momentum  of  his  own  horse,  he  turned  about 
quickly  and  at  once  was  on  the  scene. 

He  saw  the  horses  were  still  struggling;  the 
driver  was  down  from  the  seat  and  was  endeavor 
ing  to  assist  them  to  arise.  Durand,  he  thought 
it  was,  with  the  girl  in  his  arms  was  already  half 
a  block  down  the  street,  trying  to  run,  now  stopping 
to  shift  his  burden  from  one  arm  to  the  other,  yet 
withal  making  fairly  good  progress  for  one  so 
hampered  by  a  dead  weight,  for  Olive  had  fainted 
in  the  mix-up  that  followed  the  fall  of  the  horse. 
Best  knew  not  what  to  do  with  his  horse  should 
he  go  in  pursuit  of  the  athletic  fugitive  and  his 
captive.  No  one  happened  to  be  near  save  several 
native  women  who  had  rushed  from  their  doors 
at  the  commotion,  and  Best,  as  he  hurriedly  cast 
his  eyes  about,  longed  for  a  friendly  native  with 
whom  he  could  trust  the  horse,  for  the  horse  must 
hamper  him  should  Durand  essay  to  go  through 
gardens  and  unfrequented  byways  as  he  led  the 
chase. 

Driving  the  horse  up  to  one  of  the  trees  at  the 
wayside,  he  drew  the  line  through  the  terret  and 
wound  it  about  the  tree,  not  waiting  to  even  tie  a 
knot,  trusting  the  few  winds  about  the  tree  trunk 
would  be  sufficient.  This  done  he  dashed  down 
the  street  in  hot  pursuit  of  Durand.  The  latter  by 
this  time  was  fully  two  blocks  away. 


296          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  area  of  St.  Pierre  was  not  large,  so  Best  knew 
he  soon  must  have  Durand  at  bay.  He  felt  that 
he  was  as  well  acquainted  with  the  city  as  was 
Durand,  and  that  both  knowing  little  about  it, 
Durand  could  not  take  advantage  of  any  friend's 
house.  Best  did  not  know  of  Le  Tosco's  waiting 
home  as  a  harbor  for  Olive.  Durand,  however, 
as  he  ran,  was  at  a  great  disadvantage,  for  besides 
the  burden  in  his  arms  he  was,  by  force  of  circum 
stances  going  in  the  opposite  direction  from  Le 
Tosco's  home.  In  other  words,  he  was  going  to 
ward  the  water,  rather  than  toward  the  mountains 
in  whose  shadow  the  town  reposed. 

Best  fast  gained  on  Durand,  and  the  latter  saw 
the  necessity  of  subterfuge  or  trickery  to  gain  the 
vantage.  He  shot  into  a  dark  side-street,  but  kept 
going  himself,  hoping  the  other  would  not  see 
the  move.  He  was  fast  becoming  winded.  While 
an  athlete,  yet  he  was  unused  to  any  violent  exer 
tion  like  this,  and  he  hoped  that  should  his  pursuer 
fly  by  this  side-street,  he  could  gain  a  few  moments 
perhaps  in  which  he  could  lay  down  his  burden 
and  himself  rest. 

In  this  he  was  disappointed  for  he  saw  Best  turn 
and  come  down  this  side-street  after  him.  He 
stepped  behind  a  tree  from  where  he  watched  for 
Best  to  appear.  As  he  saw  Best  he  stepped  forth 
and  ran  again.  A  thought  struck  him.  He  ran  into 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          297 

a  gateway  and  without  waiting  to  ask  admittance 
crowded  the  door  open  with  his  body  and  was  inside. 
It  was  a  mere  hut  into  which  he  had  interposed 
himself  \vith  his  burden.  The  locality  was  one 
wherein  live  the  poor  native  population.  The  street 
was  dark  and  the  pursued  again  hoped  here  to  Out 
wit  his  pursuer  in  this  darkness.  He  might,  had 
not  circumstances  interfered.  Durand  boldly 
walked  into  the  low,  small  room,  and  laid  Olive 
down  upon  the  floor.  She  was  commencing  to  re 
vive  he  noticed.  Then  he  looked  about  him  and 
saw  two  old  people  of  black  skins  and  open  eyes 
who  stared  at  him  hard,  as  if,  their  age  forbidding 
boldness,  their  gaze  would  make  inquiry  why  the 
intrusion.  Durand  saw  their  look  and  said,  "  This 
young  lady  is  ill.  We  were  passing  and  I  took 
the  liberty  of  coming  in." 

The  aged  man  said  slowly.  "  You  are  welcome, 
sir.  Can  not  we  do  something  for  the  lady?  A 
little  wine  perhaps  will  bring  her  around." 

He  advanced  and  looked  down  in  the  face  of  the 
girl.  "  My  God,"  he  exclaimed,  "  it  is  Olive,  our 
angel,  she  who  brings  in  the  good  things  from  the 
convent.  Tell  me,  sir,"  he  said,  "  why  is  she  with 
you  ?  She  belongs  at  the  convent  where  I  am  gar 
dener." 

Olive  then  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  up. 

"  Francisco,"   she  said   simply.      Before  the  old 


298         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

man  could  reply  the  door  flew  open  and  Best  crossed 
the  threshold.  He  had  heard  the  cry  of  the  old 
man. 

"  Ah,"  said  Francisco  as  he  recognized  him,  "  you 
are  come,  I  am  glad." 

Best  turned  upon  Durand. 

"  You  are  excused,  sir.     Please  leave  at  once." 

*  I  shall  not,"  came  the  reply  as  he  looked  at 
Olive  yet  stretched  upon  the  floor.  Here  was  a 
prize  he  could  not  well  afford  to  lose.  A  little 
firmness  he  thought  would  put  to  flight  the  dignity 
of  the  young  man  who  commanded  him.  Making 
a  quick  motion,  Best  drew  the  revolver  from  his 
pocket. 

"Go,"  he  said,  "before  I  kill  you,"  and  he 
pointed  toward  the  door.  Durand  cast  one  more 
glance  at  the  girl,  and  then  at  Best.  He  saw  the 
revolver  pointed  at  his  heart.  From  the  gun  he 
looked  at  Best's  eye.  Its  aspect  was  even  more 
dangerous  than  the  gun.  He  walked  to  the  door 
and  went  out  into  the  night. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          299 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DURAND  left  Francisco's  somewhat  baffled.  He 
was  used  to  his  own  way,  and  it  is  not  surprising 
that  he  marveled  that  the  fates  for  once  had  pre 
vented  him  in  his  methods.  He  was  quits  at  least 
with  this  young  man  who  had  struck  him  the  blow 
on  the  chin  when  he  was  discovered  in  the  convent 
garden.  He  had  returned  blow  for  blow.  Yet  here 
was  another  defender  of  the  young  lady,  a  glad 
iator  that  he  would  now  scheme  to  down.  By  the 
candlelight  in  Francisco's  cottage  he  had  seen  that 
this  new  defender  was  none  other  than  one  he  had 
seen  about  the  Plaza  hotel, — in  fact  the  very  one 
who  had  assisted  him  up  the  portico  that  night 
of  his  encounter  with  the  other.  He  wondered 
who  they  both  were.  He  would  take  measures  to 
find  out.  Then  in  some  new  way  he  would  humiliate 
both. 

As  for  the  girl,  he  would  have  to  let  matters  rest 
for  the  present,  yet  he  would  possess  her  and  by 
some  new  scheme  he  would  yet  invent.  He  would 
for  the  present  abandon  the  idea  of  capturing  her 


300          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

and  keeping  her  in  Le  Tosco's  home  until  he  mar 
ried  her.  He  would  yet  discover  some  way  more 
feasible,  more  sure.  It  would  be  useless  now  to 
attempt  any  capture  again  on  these  nightly  drives 
she  and  her  lover  were  taking.  This  lover  and  his 
friend  would  surely  take  precautions  against  an 
other  surprise.  Could  he  stop  these  lovers  in  their 
love-making  and  so  allow  his  own  chances  no  further 
damage  in  that  direction?  Yes,  he  could. 

To  his  sinister  and  evil  mind,  a  way  out  of 
every  dilemma  was  forthcoming.  He  not  only 
could  stop  these  lovers,  but  he  would  and  effectually 
too. 

This  communion  with  himself  took  place  after  his 
return  to  his  room  from  Francisco's  cottage.  He 
had  found  his  way  back  to  the  place  where  he  had 
left  the  driver  trying  to  extricate  the  uninjured  horse 
from  the  tangle.  He  found  he  had  led  this  one 
back  to  the  stable,  had  returned  with  help,  and  was 
engaged  in  removing  the  dead  horse.  He  had 
promised  to  call  at  the  stable  in  the  morning  and  pay 
for  the  dead  horse,  and  then  he  made  his  way  to  his 
room  where  now  he  soliloquized. 

Ringing  for  paper  and  pen  he  sat  down  to  the 
small  table  in  his  room  and  penned  the  following: 

"To  the  Abbess  of  St.  Mary's  Convent:— By 
reason  of  the  knowledge  of  a  secret,  that  preys  upon 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          301 

the  writer's  mind,  and  having  at  heart  the  interests 
of  the  faith,  I  am  compelled  to  send  you  this  note. 
By  it  I  inform  you  that  the  rules  of  your  institu 
tion  are  being  disregarded.  In  fact,  love-making 
is  taking  place  under  your  very  nose,  and  you  know 
it  not.  The  girl  Olive  James  has  a  lover  who  finds 
his  way  through  the  little  gate  in  the  garden  that 
is  left  unlocked  for  his  convenience,  and  the  love- 
making  takes  place  in  the  convent  garden  or  the 
lovers  drive  about  the  city." 

No  name  did  he  sign  to  it. 

Summoning  Le  Tosco,  he  explained  that  for  the 
present  he  would  not  bring  the  girl  to  intrude  upon 
the  hospitality  of  his  home.  Yet  he  would  pay 
well  for  the  trouble  to  which  Le  Tosco's  wife  had 
been  put  in  arranging  and  preparing  for  the  girl's 
occupancy.  He  handed  Le  Tosco  a  gold  piece  of 
generous  denomination.  One  thing  more,  he  had  a 
letter  he  would  like  Le  Tosco  to  deliver  in  the  morn 
ing  if  he  could  find  time.  He  would  not  trust  to 
the  poor  postal  system  of  the  city.  Would  Le  Tosco 
deliver  it  himself  at  St.  Mary's  convent  next  morn 
ing,  not  giving  his  own  name,  nor  telling  who  had 
sent  the  note?  Again  a  piece  of  money  was  brought 
into  play.  Durand  was  generous  in  matters  he 
really  desired. 

Le  Tosco  would  indeed  do  M.  Durand's  bidding. 


302          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

No  one  should  learn  from  him  aught  of  the  source 
of  the  letter,  and  if  in  the  future  M.  Durand  wanted 
any  assistance  he  could  rely  on  the  sagacity  and 
secrecy  of  his  humble  servant,  Le  Tosco. 

A  woman  brushed  past  Le  Tosco  as  he  came  from 
the  room.  She  beckoned  him  to  follow  her.  He 
entered  her  room. 

"  You  have  a  message  there,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

"  Allow  me  to  see  it?  " 

"  Nay  I  cannot ;  it  would  not  be  right.  M. 
Durand  just  paid  for  my  services  and  confidences. 
He  pays  well." 

"  Exactly,  and  now  I  would  hire  you." 

"  Ah,"  he  said,  "  that  is  different." 

She  handed  him  several  five-franc  pieces.  From 
his  pocket  he  extracted  the  letter  and  handed  it  to 
her,  whereupon  she  read  and  returned  it. 

The  following  morning  the  Abbess  received  the 
note.  She  had  just  finished  a  devotion  when  it 
was  handed  to  her.  She  sought  the  secrecy  of  her 
own  chamber  and  read  it  once  and  then  read  it 
again.  She  cast  it  aside. 

"  An  infamous  lie,"  she  said  aloud,  "  Olive  meet 
ing  a  man  in  the  garden  at  night.  It  is  untrue. 
Between  those  lines  I  read  that  this  note  is  part 
of  a  diabolical  scheme  of  none  other  than  Durand. 
What  the  scheme  is  I  cannot  see,  yet  that  it  is  part 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          303 

of  such  a  plan  I  am  sure.  Olive  meeting  men  out 
side  indeed !  The  child,  while  not  in  horror  of  men 
as  might  be  supposed  of  one  reared  here,  yet 
would  never  deceive  me  as  this  man  charges.  I 
know  she  would  not.  I  love  her  too  much  to  be 
lieve  she  would  so  deceive  me  and  I  will  not  believe 
it  any  way.  I  shall  not  even  speak  to  her  of  it." 

The  angelic  face  took  on  softer  lines.  "  Yet  this 
has  caused  me  to  remember  that  Francisco  is  grow 
ing  old  and  may  in  his  forgetfulness  leave  the  gate 
unlocked.  I  will  speak  to  him  about  it,  and  in  the 
future  we  will  make  sure  none  enters  the  grounds, 
for  who  knows  but  this  Durand  himself  might  elect 
to  invade  the  sacredness  of  this  place." 

Arising  she  made  her  way  out  and  to  the  gar 
den.  Old  Francisco  saw  her  coming.  He  did  not 
enjoy  her  visit  either.  All  the  morning  the  re 
membrance  of  last  night's  event  was  a  thorn  in  his 
side.  Best  had  not  explained  to  him  anything  of 
the  circumstances  as  to  why  a  man  should  rush 
into  his  home  bearing  Olive,  and  why  Best  a  mo 
ment  later  followed  on  and  rescued  her,  at  the  point 
of  a  gun.  Yet  he  felt  that  his  acceptance  of  a  bribe 
to  leave  the  gate  unlocked,  implicated  him  deeply. 
He  was  very  sober.  He  had  hoped  Olive  might 
explain  to  him  later,  but  he  had  not  seen  her  yet. 
When  he  saw  the  Abbess  coming  toward  him,  he 
grew  very  nervous.  She  must  know  all  and  now 


3o4          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

was  coming  to  upbraid  him  for  his  neglect  or  his 
perfidy  in  accepting  bribes. 

She  came  close  to  him.  He  did  not  raise  his 
eyes. 

"  Good  morning,  Francisco,"  she  said. 

He  returned  her  salutation,  keeping  at  work,  how 
ever,  with  his  hoe. 

"Is  not  the  work  growing  hard  for  you?"  she 
asked.  "  You  are  growing  old." 

It  was  coming,  he  felt.  She  was  taking  this  way 
to  get  rid  of  him  as  gardener. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  am  old,  but  yet  able  to  care 
for  the  grounds.  A  little  lameness  and  stiffness  in 
the  joints  are  the  only  manifestations  of  my  age 
that  interfere  with  me." 

"How  about  your  memory?"  the  Abbess  asked. 

Now  was  the  time,  he  thought,  she  would  mention 
his  leaving  the  gate  unlocked.  "  My  memory  is 
not  as  good  as  it  was  once,  Abbess,  yet  very  good 
for  one  of  my  age." 

"  Do  you  forget  to  lock  the  little  gate  by  which 
you  enter  and  depart?"  It  had  come.  His  heart 
sank.  He  would  not  tell  an  untruth  to  this  holy 
woman  of  his  Church.  He  would,  however,  pro 
ceed  carefully. 

"  I  may,"  he  said,  "  I  may,  but  who  does  not  at 
times  forget?  " 

"  True,"  she  said,  "  we  all  do,  yet,  Francisco,  I 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          305 

would  that  in  the  future  you  look  very  carefully 
at  the  gate  and  make  sure  you  lock  it  when  you 
leave." 

"  I  will,  Abbess.  I  will.  Each  night  I  will  think 
that  you  have  mentioned  it  and  it  shall  be  locked." 

She  withdrew. 

He  looked  after  her  and  wondered  why  she  had 
thus  spoken  of  this  gate.  She  did  not  know  of 
course  of  what  had  been  going  on.  It  was  merely 
precautionary  he  thought,  although  he  did  not 
know  it  by  that  word. 

A  little  later  Best  came  along  the  walk.  Fran 
cisco  saw  him  before  he  saw  Francisco.  The  old 
man  looked  down  at  the  ground.  Best  coughed 
to  attract  his  attention,  but  the  old  man  did  not 
notice  it.  Best  spoke  to  him.  No  answer  was 
returned.  There  must  be  something  wrong,  Best 
thought.  Did  the  Abbess  know  of  the  escapade  of 
last  night,  and  had  she  found  out  the  part  Francisco 
played  in  it  ?  He  thought  it  probable.  Graham  had 
wanted,  after  the  disastrous  attempt  of  the  night 
before,  to  see  Olive  again  this  evening  and  take  the 
promised  drive.  Best,  as  his  emissary,  carried  a 
note  for  her,  to  be  given  to  Francisco,  but  the  old 
negro  would  have  none  of  him.  The  night  before 
he  and  Olive  had  walked  back  to  the  convent,  care 
fully  avoiding  pedestrians ;  indeed  there  were  few 
in  this  part  of  the  city  and  this  made  it  easy. 
20 


306          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Leaving  Olive  at  the  gate,  which  they  found 
closed  and  no  trace  of  Graham,  proving  he  was 
yet  alive  and  had  gone  elsewhere  for  safety,  Best 
went  to  the  place  where  he  had  tied  the  horse  and 
found  it  intact.  He  knew  Graham  would  go  to  the 
Plaza  Hotel,  their  usual  waiting  place,  rather  than 
attract  attention  by  staying  near  the  convent.  So 
toward  this  place  he  directed  the  horse,  and  found 
Graham  as  he  expected. 

After  the  fruitless  visit  to  Francisco,  he  again  re 
turned  to  the  plantation  of  Graham  and  reported  the 
conditions  he  had  found.  Together  they  tried  to  un 
ravel  the  tangle,  tried  to  reason  why  Francisco  had 
changed.  Could  the  Abbess  know?  If  she  did, 
then  who  had  told  her,  and  what  was  to  be  done? 
The  gate  and  Francisco  had  been  to  them  a  chan 
nel  upon  which  reliance  had  been  placed.  Now  it 
had  failed. 

"  Did  you  ever  arrange  any  signals  with  Olive 
that  you  could  use  in  case  anything  happened  like 
this?"  asked  Best. 

"  No,"  said  Graham. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Best,  "  we  have  outdone 
first  the  vigilance  of  the  Abbess,  then  Durand,  and 
we  will  not  give  up  yet.  •  We  will  invent  some  way 
of  gaining  an  interview  with  Olive,  and  perhaps 
you  may  again  enjoy  those  drives." 

Graham  went  about  his  duties  on  the  plantation 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.         307 

after  lunch  with  a  heavy  heart.  The  promise  of 
his  friend  had  little  weight  with  him.  Did  the 
Abbess  know?  Then  she  would  resent  his  manner 
of  courtship  and  would  keep  him  and  Olive  apart. 
Francisco  at  least  had  altered  his  course  in  the  mat 
ter,  and  that  alone,  even  if  the  Abbess  did  not 
know,  was  sufficient  to  block  proceedings.  His 
cloud  for  the  time  being  had  no  silver  lining. 

On  the  plantation  was  a  workshop  where  tools 
of  all  descriptions  for  the  repairing  of  fences, 
buildings  and  machinery  \vere  preserved.  Best 
for  a  time  sat  on  the  veranda  smoking  his  after- 
dinner  cigar,  thinking  and  meditating  how  he  could 
assist  his  friend  out  of  the  present  dilemma.  He 
thought  himself  particularly  to  blame  for  it  inas 
much  as  he  had  first  proposed  these  meetings  in 
the  garden ;  had  himself  bribed  Francisco  that  these 
meetings  were  made  possible. 

Had  he  waited,  he  thought,  some  other  way  for 
Graham  to  meet  Olive  might  have  presented  itself. 
He  admitted  to  himself  that  his  love  for  things 
original  and  extraordinary  prompted  him  in  all  this. 
Now  his  friends  were  deep  in  the  matter,  had  fallen 
in  love  he  believed,  although  Graham  had  said  little 
of  this,  and  it  wras  for  him  to  clear  up  the  present 
situation.  He  betook  himself  to  the  workshop  and 
there  toiled  for  a  couple  of  hours.  He  viewed  his 
workmanship  with  satisfaction,  and  took  it  with 


308          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

him  to  the  veranda  where  he  waited  for  Graham  to 
return.  He  said,  "  Well,  Harold,  will  we  go  to  St. 
Pierre  to-night  ?  " 

"  No,  I  think  not.     Why  should  we?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Best,  "  I  have  discovered  a  plan 
that  is  better  than  digging  for  francs  in  moles' 
holes." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Then  he  outlined  his   scheme. 

"  It  looks  good,"  said  Graham,  as  he  finished. 
"  We  will  try  it." 

Graham  had  brooded  much  that  day  and  now  was 
most  willing  to  clutch  at  any  straw  that  might  again 
restore  the  meetings  with  Olive.  "  If  it  is  true  the 
Abbess  has  learned  of  our  meetings  and  has  taken 
Francisco  to  task  for  his  part  in  the  program,  then 
if  this  works  we  will  have  her  outwitted  soon ;  that 
is,  if  I  see  Olive  to-night." 

"  You  will  see  her,  my  man,  don't  worry." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          309 


CHAPTER  X. 

IN  the  evening  they  drove  to  St.  Pierre  again, — 
this  time  with  a  more  commodious  carriage.  There 
was  use  for  the  larger  vehicle,  for  in  the  interior 
was  placed  a  light  and  fragile  ladder,  made  dex 
terously  from  the  cane-stalk,  a  ladder  that  while  it 
lay  in  the  wagon  was  not  over  six  feet  in  length 
and  was  really  a  double  ladder,  or  two  fastened  to 
gether  at  the  tops.  The  rungs  were  of  the  same 
material,  and  secured  with  light  wire  so  as  not  to 
reduce  the  strength.  There  was  also  another  rect 
angular  shaped  article,  paper  covered,  and  with  a 
paper  tail,  a  kite  in  fact.  Both  were  the  handiwork 
of  Best,  and  were  accessories  to  his  scheme  as  out 
lined  to  Graham. 

It  was  nightfall  when  they  started.  They  wished 
none  to  observe  them,  at  least  not  to  see  these  art 
icles  in  the  wagon;  for  some  inquisitive  one,  even 
in  that  city  of  free  movement  and  freer  morals 
might  suspect  their  intentions. 

It  was  late  when  they  entered  the  city,  nearly 
nine  o'clock  in  fact.  This  suited  their  purpose 


310          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

as  they  wanted  the  street  as  deserted  as  possible. 
They  first  drove  by  the  convent.  Not  a  light 
shone,  not  a  soul  was  awake  so  far  as  they  knew. 
Fortunately  the  light  on  the  corner  near  the  cathe 
dral  was  not  burning.  This  suited  them,  for  the 
less  light  the  better,  and  the  one  below  was  shaded 
by  trees. 

A  little  below  the  convent  garden,  the  horse 
was  reined  in  next  the  curb.  Without  speaking 
Best  alighted  and  took  from  the  wagon  both  kite 
and  ladder,  and  deposited  them  under  a  tree.  He 
then  whispered  to  Graham,  "  All  right,  go  ahead. 
Come  back  in  thirty  minutes  and  I  think  the  lady 
will  be  waiting  for  you." 

Without  replying,  Graham  drove  off,  while  Best 
busied  himself  first  with  the  kite,  leaving  the  ladder 
for  later  expediencies.  From  his  coat  pocket  he 
took  a  large  ball  of  fine  strong  cord,  and  attached 
this  to  the  kite.  Unwinding  quite  a  quantity,  a 
hundred  yards  perhaps,  he  took  from  his  pocket  a 
short  piece  of  the  same  cord,  some  three  feet  long. 
At  one  end  of  this  cord  were  tied  two  or  three  nails. 
The  end  opposite  the  nails  he  tied  around  the  cord 
attached  to  the  kite,  tying  carefully  so  that  it  would 
not  slip.  From  his  pocket  he  again  took  another 
cord  of  the  same  length  as  the  last  one.  Then  he 
reached  into  his  inside  pocket  and  took  from  it  a 
letter.  Using  his  knife,  he  stuck  the  blade  through 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          311 

a  corner  of  the  envelope,  and  with  the  point  of -the 
knife  worked  the  end  of  this  cord  through  the  slit 
he  had  cut.  Then  he  tied  this  around  the  main 
string  a  few  feet  back  of  the  nails.  He  knew  when 
planning  this  that  the  winds  blowing  in  from  the 
ocean  would  assist, — indeed  would  make  his  scheme 
possible.  Now  with  satisfaction,  he  noted  the  wind 
was  blowing  strong  inland.  Glancing  up  and  down 
the  street  in  either  direction,  he  carefully  raised  the 
kite  and  shook  it  to  the  breeze.  It  fluttered.  He 
jerked  on  the  cord  to  help  in  maintaining  its  as 
cendency.  Slowly  it  arose.  The  wind  once  under, 
it  raised  it  fast.  It  soared  out  over  the  convent  gar 
den  steadily,  and  as  Best  played  out  the  cord  it 
continued  to  rise. 

"  About  enough  line  out,  I  guess,"  he  said  aloud. 
He  heard  the  sound  of  some  one  walking.  Hur 
riedly  he  looked  about  and  saw,  by  the  light,  two 
men  turn  the  corner  below.  What  should  he  do? 
Hastily  he  wound  the  cord  about  the  paling  of  the 
fence,  and  walked  toward  them.  Passing  them,  he 
waited  until  they  disappeared  above,  when  he  came 
back.  The  kite  was  still  suspended  as  he  left  it, 
so  far  out  that  the  cord  hung  from  it  to  the  earth 
at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees.  Untying  it,  he 
walked  up  the  street  so  that  the  cord  suspended 
just  touched  the  end  of  the  convent  roof.  By  the 


312          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

white  letter  that  floated  above,  he  knew  the  loca 
tion  of  the  nails. 

The  end  window  of  Olive's  room  he  located  with 
his  eye.  Carefully  he  drew  in  the  cord  so  that  the 
nails  would,  he  judged,  be  on  a  level  with  the  pane. 
From  right  to  left  he  oscillated  the  cord  so  that 
the  nails  swung  back  and  forth,  each  time  hitting 
the  pane.  He  did  this  several  times.  Then  he 
heard  the  window  softly  raised.  He  kept  on  agi 
tating  the  cord  so  that  the  girl's  attention  would  be 
drawn  to  it,  that  she  might  see  the  cause  of  the 
noise  she  had  heard. 

For  the  darkness  he  could  not  see  her  hand  ex 
tended  toward  the  cord,  but  a  moment  later  he  felt 
it  grow  taut  in  his  hand,  as  though  interfered  with, 
and  knew  she  had  detected  the  summons  and  its 
message.  He  hauled  in  the  kite,  winding  up  the 
cord  as  he  did  so,  and  found  the  letter  gone.  Then 
he  sat  down  and  laughed. 

"  When  I  left  New  York  the  people  were  aston 
ished  at  the  discovery  of  wireless  telegraphy.  I  can 
lay  no  claim  to  priority  of  invention,  or  to  much 
genius,  yet  I  have  solved  the  problem  myself." 

Some  few  minutes  later  he  saw  Olive  come  from 
the  convent  and  approach  the  gate.  The  note  then 
he  had  transmitted  was  responded  to,  for  it  merely 
asked  her  to  again  come  to  the  garden  gate,  and  at 
once.  Best  gathered  up  the  kite  and  walked  down 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          313 

to  the  gate  in  question.  There  he  met  Olive. 
He  explained  to  her  that  Graham  was  near  by, 
and  of  the  ladder  he  had  brought  that  she  might 
get  over  the  fence. 

Making  sure  no  one  was  approaching,  he  procured 
the  double  ladder  and  swung  one  end  over  the 
fence.  Grasping  it  firmly  he  told  her  to  mount. 
Upon  coming  to  the  apex,  he  instructed  her  to  place 
one  foot  around  and  on  the  other  side  which  he 
held,  and  then  to  swing  her  body  around  and  de 
scend.  This  she  did.  "  Good,"  he  said,  as  she 
touched  the  ground.  "  You  are  a  girl  well  worthy 
the  efforts  of  an  inventor."  She  did  not  under 
stand  this. 

"  Love  laughs  at  locks,"  said  Best,  "  especially 
when  love  has  an  assistant  as  worthy  the  name  as  I. 
I  planned  the  kite  and  ladder."  In  the  dark,  Olive 
blushed  at  the  word  "  love." 

Graham  turned  the  corner  below  just  then,  and 
they  walked  down  and  met  him.  Olive  and  Gra 
ham  drove  away  together.  Best  in  a  low  tone  said, 
"  Arrange  signals  and  plans  so  that  you  may  meet 
even  if  Durand  and  the  Abbess  together  interfere. 
My  inventive  power  is  already  exhausted." 

He  tore  the  kite  in  shreds  and  strewed  it  in  the 
road,  knowing  if  its  identity  was  discovered,  its 
use  would  be  in  the  dark.  The  ladder  he  managed 
to  secrete  in  the  brandies  of  the  very  tree  that  had 


3H          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

been  used  by  Durand  twice  as  a  hiding  place,  the 
thick  foliage  concealing  it  completely.  "  As  I  will 
not  be  needed  here  for  an  hour  and  a  half,"  the 
time  he  and  Graham  had  agreed  upon,  "  I  will  go 
to  the  Plaza  hotel  and  make  eyes  at  the  passing 
feminine  show  until  I  am  called  back  here  to  again 
assist  in  a  certain  feminine  aerial  feat,"  he  said  as  he 
glanced  at  the  fence  over  which  Olive  would  again 
climb  when  she  returned  to  the  convent. 

Graham  and  Olive  were  much  pleased  that  they 
could  again  be  together.  They  laughed  at  the 
manner  which  had  been  employed  to  gain  the  meet 
ing. 

"  Best  is  a  wonderful  planner  and  is  generally 
right  in  what  he  does  or  says,"  Graham  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Olive.  "  I  don't  doubt  it."  There 
came  to  her  mind  what  he  had  said  of  love  and  she 
blushed  again,  but  he  did  not  see  it.  She  added, 
"  He  is  very  brave  too.  My  rescue  last  night  was  a 
wonderful  exhibition  of  bravery." 

"  Were  you  not  frightened  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  very  much.  I  fainted  and  knew  little  of 
what  was  going  on  until  I  found  myself  in  Fran 
cisco's  cottage." 

"  You  were  not  harmed  of  course.  I  should 
never  forgive  myself  had  you  been." 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  was  not  seriously  hurt,  just 
frightened." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          315 

"  It  was  very  bad  at  that,"  he  said.  "  I  regret 
the  interference  and  the  plight  and  danger  your 
acquaintance  with  me  has  brought." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  don't  look  at  it  in  that  way 
On  the  whole  I  enjoy  it." 

"  So  do  I,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  continued,  "  this  stealing  away  from 
the  convent,  these  drives  are  new  to  me,  and  besides 
I  enjoy  your  society." 

Then  she  knew  this  was  bold  and  she  regretted 
the  remark  at  once.  However,  he  did  not  appear  to 
notice  any  boldness  in  this  remark.  Had  he 
known  that  when  the  summons  from  Best  came, 
she  was  yet  undressed  and  crying  over  the  fact  that 
she  had  not  been  permitted  to  see  him  the  night  be 
fore,  he  would  have  rejoiced." 

"  You  were  injured  by  that  evil  man,  were  you 
not?"  she  continued. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  as  he  put  his  hand  to  a  lump  on 
his  forehead  that,  though  somewhat  diminished  by 
treatment  of  cold  water,  was  yet  prominent.  He 
laughed.  "  Yes,  but  he  and  I  are  even  now,  you 
remember." 

"  I  hoped  at  the  time  you  were  not  seriously 
hurt." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  he  asked,  his  face  close  to  hers. 

'*  Yes,"  she  answered  fervently. 

He  was  tempted  to  speak,  to  tell  her  of  his  love 


3i6          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

here,  for  her  declaration  that  she  was  afraid  he  was 
injured  at  Durand's  hand  had  fired  him.  Such  an 
expression,  if  mere  politeness  was  implied,  would 
have  passed  unnoticed,  but  in  her  words  was  in 
corporated  more  than  politeness, — earnestness  and 
affectionate  consideration.  He  had  noted  this  and 
would  have  spoken  had  it  not  been  for  this. 
First,  he  was  discretionary.  He  had  command  of 
himself,  even  in  matters  of  love.  All  along  he  had 
hoped  for  some  chance  to  woo  Olive  other  than  the 
way  he  was  doing,  and  he  had  resolved  not  to  de 
clare  himself  until  such  time  as  he  could  do  so  in 
the  open,  and  with  the  full  knowledge  and  consent 
of  the  Abbess.  Secondly,  he  felt  that  he  was  playing 
this  Abbess  a  mean  trick.  He  had  hoped  she  would 
discover  their  secret  before  long.  He  realized  that 
the  matter  should  not  go  on  as  it  was.  Olive  had 
been  endangered  herself;  had  been  abducted,  and 
only  escaped  by  a  mere  chance,  thanks  to  Best.  The 
Abbess  perhaps  even  now  might  know  this,  and 
would  never  consent  to  his  suit.  Yet  he  would 
that  something  might  happen  to  change  the  status 
of  things,  so  he  might  be  able  to  speak  his  love,  but 
he  never  would  do  this  as  long  as  they  were  meet 
ing  in  secret.  He  had  told  Best  this,  and  even  Best, 
the  intrepid,  agreed  with  him.  So  he  spoke  no 
words  of  love,  the  words  he  held  back  by  sheer 
force  of  will. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          317 

He  called  her  "  Olive  "  now.  He  had  asked  for 
this  privilege  and  it  had  been  granted.  "  Olive," 
he  said,  "  there  is  one  thing  I  wish  to  tell  you." 

Her  heart  fluttered  at  this,  for  she  expected  then 
and  there  a  declaration.  What  should  she  say? 
Aye,  she  felt  what  the  answer  would  be,  must  be, 
did  he  tell  her  of  his  love,  but  she  hoped  he  would 
not,  at  least  not  then.  Like  Graham  she  longed  for 
a  chance  to  open  her  heart  to  the  Abbess, — longed 
to  tell  her  of  the  great  light  in  her  heart  that  over 
whelmed  her  at  present, — to  tell  the  Abbess  that 
the  pith  and  rhythm  of  the  song  that  echoed  in  her 
soul  at  all  times  was  love.  But  she  had  not,  did 
not  dare  to  as  yet,  and  yet  she  hoped  the  Abbess 
might  know,  at  least  before  Graham  should  tell 
his  secret  which  she  knew  he  wished  to  speak. 

But  it  was  of  other  things  he  was  to  speak.  "  I 
would  speak  to  you  about  the  man  who  has  fol 
lowed  us  about,  who  came  into  the  garden  that 
night  and  who  forcibly  took  you  last  night." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  and  she  wondered  if  he  knew 
more  of  Durand  than  she  did. 

He  went  on.    "  His  name  is  Herbert  Durand." 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"  Years  ago  he  worked  in  the  bank  of  which 
my  father  was  president." 

Her   heart   gave  a  great   bound.     The   speaker 


318          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

then  was  the  son  of  the  Mr.  Graham  the  Abbess 
had  known. 

"  This  Herbert  Durand  was  employed  there  as 
a  clerk.  Afterward  he  was  made  the  custodian  of 
a  large  estate." 

She  trembled.  It  was  her  own  story  he  would 
tell. 

"  The  proceeds  of  this  estate  he  appropriated  to 
his  own  use,  robbing  a  child,  a  little  girl  I  believe, 
who  must  be  a  woman  now.  No  greater  crime  was 
ever  committed,  save  murder,  than  the  robbing  of 
this  little  child,  a  crime  that  merits  great  punish 
ment.  Yet  the  plunderer  of  the  innocent  went 
scot  free  after  kidnapping  and  forever  secreting 
the  little  one." 

"  Forever,  did  you  say?  " 

He  did  not  notice  this  remark,  but  went  on.  "  As 
long  as  father  lived  he  sought  this  man.  At  his 
death  I  took  up  the  search.  I  have  found  him  and 
I  am  now  debating  what  can  best  be  done  in  the 
matter." 

"  What  was  the  little  girl's  name?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  do  not  know,  I  do  not  remember.  Only  one 
name  stands  out  in  this  affair  preeminently  and 
that  the  name  of  this  villain  Durand.  But  her  name 
is  known  at  the  bank  where  I  can  get  it  any  time. 
There  are  funds  deposited  there  in  her  name  I  be 
lieve, — funds  that  in  the  years  have  enhanced  in 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          319 

value  and  are  now  worth  a  fortune.  Funny  I  do 
not  know  the  girl's  name,  yet  I  don't  know  as  I 
have  ever  heard  it." 

Should  she  tell  him  she  was  the  little  innocent  he 
had  mentioned?  Should  she  tell  him  it  was  her 
money  in  the  bank  ?  Not  yet,  she  thought.  When 
he  should  speak  of  his  love  would  be  time  enough. 
She  would  surprise  him  then.  Besides  the  time 
might  be  more  opportune.  Mayhap  the  Abbess  by 
that  time  would  know. 

"  What  about  Durand?  Are  you  going  to  molest 
him?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  To-day  I  called  upon  the 
United  States  Consul  for  advice,  but  he  is  away, 
but  will  be  back  in  a  day  or  two.  Then  I  shall 
see  him  and  decide,  upon  his  advice,  the  course  to 
pursue  in  moving  against  Durand." 

"  But,"  she  faltered,  "  he  has  shown  himself 
dangerous.  I  am  afraid  for  you  if  you  should  try 
to  molest  him." 

He  looked  at  her  closely.  "  I  am  pleased  that 
you  are  solicitous  for  my  safety."  She  turned  her 
head  away.  "  But  I  shall  not  fear  him,  so  please 
don't  worry  about  me." 

They  were  on  the  way  back  to  the  convent  by 
this  time,  and  Graham  allowed  Olive  to  be  escorted 
from  the  corner  below  the  convent  back  to  the  con 
vent  garden  by  Best,  who  was  there  in  waiting. 


320          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Again  Best  assisted  Olive  over  the  fence,  took  down 
the  ladders  and  carried  them  to  the  wagon. 

"  I  hope  you  have  set  the  time  for  the  next  in 
terview,  Harold,"  he  said,  "  so  that  the  kite  can  be 
dispensed  with,  and  only  the  ladder  used." 

"  By  Jove,  I  never  thought  to  mention  a  future 
date,  Frank.  What  a  fool  I  was." 

"Oh  yes,"  groaned  Best.  "Blind  to  all  out 
ward  things,  blind  to  any  and  everything  except 
each  other,  and  so  taken  up  with  love-making  as  to 
forget  to  mention  a  future  meeting.  Were  it  not 
for  me,  the  wheels  of  the  chariot  of  love  would  be 
seriously  blocked." 

Olive  in  the  meantime  had  worked  her  way 
through  the  grounds  toward  the  convent.  She 
had  always  come  out  and  entered  by  the  front  or 
main  door.  It  was  safer  than  the  other  doors,  and 
besides  she  knew  the  key  was  left  in  the  lock  and 
to  come  out  she  had  but  to  turn  it  and  walk  forth. 
So  to-night  she  made  her  way  noiselessly  up  the 
convent  porch,  which  fortunately  was  always  in  the 
shadow  of  the  cathedral  next  above. 

There  was  a  window  each  side  of  the  door  and 
through  them  she  detected  no  light,  yet  as  she 
opened  the  door  and  stepped  inside,  she  beheld  the 
figure  of  the  Abbess,  draped  in  her  night-clothes, 
holding  in  her  hand  a  dim  candle.  For  a  moment 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          321 

they  looked  into  each  other's  eyes.    The  eyes  of  the 
Abbess  were  penetrating. 

"  Is  it  you,  Olive?    Then  you  have  returned.     I 
have  awaited  your  coming  for  an  hour." 
21 


322          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE  Abbess  had  not  come  upon  Olive  here  by 
accident.  Then  it  must  have  been  by  design.  This 
was  the  case.  When  she  read  the  note  telling  her 
that  Olive  met  a  lover  in  the  garden  or  went  driv 
ing  with  him  in  the  evening,  the  Abbess  did  not  be 
lieve  it,  as  we  have  stated;  and  further  than  to 
increase  the  efficacy  of  Francisco's  watchfulness, 
she  had  done  nothing  in  this  direction.  A  turn 
of  circumstances  ofttimes  discloses  facts  that  keen 
perceptions  overlook.  It  was  a  turn  of  this  nature 
that  showed  the  Abbess  her  charge  Olive  undoubt 
edly  did  have  a  lover  and  that  she  went  out  to  meet 
him,  out  from  the  sacred  walls  of  a  holy  convent  too, 
where  good  works  and  love  for  the  faith  super 
sede  completely  all  love  that  is  worldly.  The  turn 
of  circumstances  that  told  the  Abbess  the  contents 
of  the  note  was  true  was  this. 

On  this  night  the  Abbess,  after  her  hour  of  vigil 
and  prayer,  retired  as  usual.  An  hour  later  there 
came  a  knock  at  her  door.  She  arose  and  found  a 
waiting  nun  there  who  told  her  another  nun  was 
ill  and  in  great  distress, — ill  with  pains  that  were 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          323 

excruciating  and  awful.  The  Abbess  knew  that 
only  one  candle  lighted  the  rooms  of  the  nuns, 
and  that  Olive  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  having  a 
lamp, — a  privilege  that  frugality  denied  the  nuns. 
The  Abbess  made  her  way  to  Olive's  room.  She 
knocked  and  no  one  responded.  Thinking  Olive 
asleep  she  entered.  She  had  been  accustomed  to 
do  this  and  at  times  she  and  Olive  enjoyed  little 
visits,  even  when  both  were,  by  the  rules  of  the  con 
vent,  supposed  to  be  asleep.  As  she  entered,  she 
struck  a  match  and  lighted  the  lamp.  Carefully 
she  glanced  at  the  bed  to  see  if  she  had  awakened 
Olive.  Her  eyes  fairly  started,  for  Olive  was  not 
there.  The  bed  had  not  been  opened.  She  spoke 
her  name.  "  Olive,  Olive,"  she  said.  No  answer 
came.  Then  she  saw  the  note  Olive  had  received 
via  the  kite  string.  It  lay  where  she  had  tossed  it 
earlier,  never  dreaming  that  eyes  other  than  her 
own  would  read  its  contents.  The  Abbess  picked 
it  up  and  read  : 

"  Dear  Miss  James :  As  our  proposed  meeting 
last  night  did  not  materialize,  by  reason  of  outside 
interference,  will  you  kindly  consent  to  come  out 
again  to-night  that  we  may  enjoy  the  drive  pro 
posed  for  last  evening?  Come  to  the  gate  where 
assistance  will  be  given  you  to  get  outside. 
"  Yours  sincerely, 

"  HAROLD  GRAHAM." 


324          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  Abbess  clutched  at  her  throat.  Then  it  was 
true.  Olive  went  out  to  meet  men,  or  a  man  and 
drove  about  the  city.  She,  the  child  of  her  adoption, 
the  object  of  her  love  and  prayer.  "  Olive,  Olive," 
murmured  the  Abbess,  "  how  could  you  do  this 
after  my  kindness  and  my  love  for  you,  after  the 
years  of  tender  rearing  through  which  I  have 
brought  you,  and  you  now  defy  my  authority  and 
teachings;  defy  the  authority  and  teachings  of  the 
Church  and  the  sacred  convent  in  which  and  by 
whose  charity  you  have  been  reared.  Oh !  Oh ! 
To  what  depths  have  you  sunk  here  in  this  immoral, 
this  devil  scourged  city.  You  go  out  to  meet  some 
man,  the  man  whom  you  only  saw  upon  Mt.  Pelee 
the  day  of  our  picnic.  That  was  scarcely  a  fort 
night  ago  and  now  you  are  lovers.  There  must 
be  another  too  who  interferes,"  as  she  glanced  at  the 
note.  "  Aye,  I  know  who  that  one  is,"  as  she 
thought  of  Durand,  "  a  villain.  I  would  rather  you 
would  die  than  fall  into  his  clutches.  You  are  ex 
posed  to  the  evil  influence  of  evil  men."  And  the 
Abbess  threw  herself  on  Olive's  cot  and  sobbed, 
sobbed  with  more  grief  and  anguish  than  ever  before 
in  her  life.  For  a  time  she  lay  thus,  unmindful  of 
the  suffering  nun  below,  unmindful  of  anything 
save  that  her  ward  had  done  exceedingly  wrong, 
and  even  now  in  her  purity  was  exposed  to  the  evil 
intentions  and  passions  of  man.  For  a  time  her 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          325 

grief  was  great.  She  marveled  at  Olive's  deception, 
her  ingratitude,  her  unfaithfulness.  Yet  as  she 
thought,  slowly  over  her  there  came  a  change. 

Olive  was  no  mere  child.  She  herself  had  seen  to 
it  that  she  had  been  instructed  along  lines  that 
would  readily  develop  her  womanhood.  Then  was 
Olive  not  able  to  take  care  of  herself,  to  withstand 
temptation  of  the  world  she  met  outside  the  convent  ? 
Surely  she  was.  The  Abbess  felt  this  was  true. 

Such  was  her  great  love  for  Olive  that  she  could 
condone  the  appearance  of  wrong  in  all  Olive  had 
done.  What  of  the  deception  and  disobedience, 
however?  Well,  these  alone  remained  flagrant,  yet 
there  might  be  mitigation  for  these,  did  she  know 
the  whole  circumstances.  There  must  be  mitiga 
tion.  She  would  not  judge  her  wrongly  until  she 
had  heard  Olive's  story,  until  Olive  had  told  her 
all. 

She  arose  from  the  bed,  and  leaving  the  note 
still  on  Olive's  table,  took  up  the  lamp  and  went 
below  to  attend  the  sick  nun.  Her  face  was  a  little 
paler  perhaps,  but  the  lines  were  a  trifle  softer, 
the  light  then  there  a  bit  brighter.  Why  not?  She 
had  conquered  suspicion.  She  had  already  for 
given  Olive's  offenses.  Forgiveness  is  a  cardinal 
principle  of  the  faith.  Why  not  then  the  deeper 
angelic  expression  on  the  face  of  the  Abbess  ?  She 
found  the  sick  nun  already  relieved  and  left  some 


326          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

directions  regarding  her  further  care,  and  passed 
out  of  the  room  of  the  sick. 

She  went  to  the  several  doors  of  the  convent  that 
opened  outside  and  found  only  the  main  door  un 
locked.  Olive  then  had  gone  out  at  this  one.  She 
would  wait  her  coming.  She  seated  herself  in  the 
corridor  as  far  from  the  door  as  possible  and  waited. 
An  hour  later  a  light  hand  on  the  door  knob  was 
heard  deftly  turning  it. 

She  saw  Olive  start  when  their  eyes  met.  The 
Abbess  was  cool  and  collected.  Olive's  eyes  sought 
the  floor.  She  stood  convicted  before  the  Abbess, — 
convicted  and  trembling.  The  Abbess  did  not 
speak.  Anguish  almost  unbearable  flooded  Olive's 
heart.  Why,  oh  why  did  not  the  Abbess  speak, 
upbraid  her,  turn  her  forth,  anything  besides  this 
look?  She  was  searching  the  girl's  features  for 
evidence  of  wrong  doing, — for  evidence  of  wilful 
disobedience.  The  Abbess  was  fair-minded.  She 
could  not  detect  any  such  look. 

Olive  stood  there,  glancing  first  at  the  Abbess 
and  then  at  the  floor.  She  felt  she  could  no  longer 
stand  the  ordeal.  She  must  speak.  "  Mamma," 
she  cried,  "  speak  to  me." 

The  Abbess  walked  around  her  and  fastened  the 
door  Olive  had  not  locked.  Then  she  put  her  arm 
around  Olive's  waist  and  whispered  in  her  ear. 
"  Do  not  speak.  None  other  here  must  know  of 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.         327 

this.  The  discipline  of  the  convent  would  be 
ruined." 

Together  they  silently  walked  up  the  stairway 
and  down  the  hall  to  Olive's  room,  treading  as 
softly  as  Olive  would  had  she  been  alone,  the  Ab 
bess  as  anxious  as  she  that  the  matter  might  be  a 
secret  between  them.  Inside  Olive's  room,  the  Ab 
bess  placed  the  light  on  the  table  and  approached 
Olive  again,  put  her  arm  about  her  waist  and  drew 
her  toward  the  bed.  Together  they  sat  down  on 
the  bed,  the  Abbess's  arm  yet  about  the  girl. 

The  Abbess  was  first  to  speak.  "  Olive  dear, 
tell  me  all  about  it.  Tell  your  mamma  all  about 
it." 

The  tones  in  which  the  words  were  delivered 
carried  forgiveness  and  assurance  with  them.  Olive 
no  longer  hesitated.  She  started  in  and  told  all. 
Told  of  the  time  she  had  first  seen  Graham  at  the 
Cathedral,  then  again  of  her  meeting  him  on  Mt. 
Pelee.  Told  of  the  first  note  he  had  sent  her,  and 
how,  through  old  Francisco  it  had  reached  her,  ex 
cusing  the  part  Graham  had  played  as  mere  ex 
pediencies  induced  by  the  fact  that  a  convent  is  an 
impregnable  fortress  to  a  young  man  who  seeks  a 
fair  one  within,  and  subterfuge  must  be  resorted 
to.  Olive  told  of  all  that  had  been  done;  of  the 
part  Durand  had  played  in  the  affair.  As  she  told 
of  her  capture  by  him  and  her  subsequent  escape, 


328         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

thanks  to  Graham's  friend,  Mr.  Best,  the  Abbess' 
frame  shook.  "  Olive,  Olive,"  she  said,  "  why  did 
you  not  tell  me  of  this  that  I  might  protect  you 
from  this  awful  man,  Durand." 

Continuing  she  told  of  the  successful  attempt 
made  that  evening  to  communicate  with  her,  of  the 
effectual  use  of  the  kite  and  ladder  in  this.  The 
Abbess  almost  smiled  at  this  detail.  Yet  Olive 
noticed  it  not. 

Her  voice  was  meek  and  penitent,  yet  the  Ab 
bess  had  not  spoken  a  single  word  of  reproof,  but 
as  she  finished,  she  turned  and  looked  into  her 
face.  She  saw  there  only  forgiveness  and  gratitude, 
— forgiveness  for  herself  and  gratitude  that  her  es 
cape  from  Durand  had  been  so  fortunate. 

"  Mamma,"  she  said,  "  forgive  me;  will  you 
forgive  both  Harold  and  me?  " 

"  Harold,"  said  the  Abbess,  "  and  indeed  has  it 
come  to  this  that  you  call  him  Harold  ?  " 

There  was  really  a  bit  of  alarm  in  her  voice.  She 
hoped  Olive  and  Harold,  as  she  called  him,  were  not 
engaged,  at  least  until  she  could  see  this  man 
"  Harold,"  and  ascertain  his  fitness  and  character. 

She  said,  "  Olive,  I  forgive  you,  but  this  young 
man  I  would  know  more  of  before  forgiving  him. 
What  do  you  know  of  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  plenty,  mamma.  He  has  told  me  much 
about  himself.  Besides,  mamma,  I  learned  some- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          329 

thing  of  great  importance  concerning  him  and  us 
to-night.  His  name  you  know  is  Graham.  Well, 
he  is  the  son  of  the  bank  president  you  once  knew 
back  in  New  York." 

"  Impossible,"  said  the  Abbess. 

"  Yes,"  said  Olive,  "  it  is  true.  Yet  he  knows  not 
I  am  the  one  who  was  robbed  by  Durand,  although 
he  knows  Durand's  identity.  His  father  sought 
Durand  for  years  that  he  might  prosecute  him  for 
robbing  me,  and  the  son  promised  the  father  to 
continue  the  search.  He  will  soon  move  against 
Durand." 

"  Child,  child,  do  you  speak  the  truth?  Does  he 
speak  the  truth  ?  " 

"  Surely  mamma,  we  both  do." 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other  for  a  mo 
ment.  The  head  of  the  Abbess  bent  forward ;  tears 
flowed  down  her  face.  Olive  caught  the  sentiment. 
She  knew  not  what  or  why,  but  she  cried  also. 
Locked  in  each  other's  arms  they  cried  on, — one 
by  reason  of  mingled  emotions.  Her  ward  she  was 
sure  had  placed  her  confidence  and  love, — love  was 
it,  had  it  come  to  that,  in  a  man,  the  magic  of  whose 
name  assured  the  Abbess  of  his  worthiness.  Then 
too  she  cried,  because  in  the  end  she  must  lose 
Olive,  Olive,  her  almost  daughter. 

Olive  cried  first  for  joy,  joy  that  the  Abbess  had 
forgiven  her  and  looked  with  forgiveness  upon  her 


330         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

exploits;  cried  for  gladness  that  the  Abbess  really 
knew  her  secret,  and  deception  was  a  thing  of  the 
past;  cried  for  joy  over  the  fact  that  the  secret 
she  had  housed  in  a  corner  of  her  inner  soul  was 
known  now  and  her  great  love  for  this  man  could 
be  consummated,  and  no  longer  be  a  secret. 

"  Olive,  do  you  love  this  Mr.  Graham?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,"  faltered  Olive. 

"  Are  you  engaged  ?  " 

"  No,  mamma."  Through  her  tears  came  the 
qualification  "  not  yet." 

The  Abbess  smiled.  "  I  would  see  this  Mr. 
Graham  or  Harold  to-morrow.  Olive,  we  will  send 
for  him.  Good  night." 

"  Good  night,  mamma." 

"  But  you  haven't  forgiven  Harold  yet,"  con 
tinued  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  all  right,  I  do  now.    Good  night  again." 

The  Abbess  went  to  her  own  room  and  retired, 
as  did  Olive.  Both  went  to  sleep  feeling  a  load  had 
been  lifted  from  their  souls. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          331 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  NATIVE  boy  stopped  his  bicycle  in  front  of 
Graham's  cottage  and  dismounting  came  up  the 
flower-banked  walk  toward  the  porch  on  which 
Graham  and  Best  were  sitting.  It  was  the  morn 
ing  the  Abbess  had  promised  to  send  for  Graham. 

True  to  her  word  this  messenger  bore  a  note  to 
him.  They  were  just  discussing  the  successfulness 
of  the  previous  night's  adventure.  Graham  had  con 
gratulated  Best  on  the  fertile  productiveness  of  his 
mind  in  suggesting  kites  and  ladders  as  accessories 
to  his  suit.  Best's  reply  was  characteristic. 

"  In  the  future  Cupid  will  be  pictured  with  not 
only  his  bow  and  shaft,  but  a  kite  and  a  ladder  will 
be  added.  This  will  greatly  add  to  his  dignity  and 
effectiveness." 

Graham  took  the  proffered  note  from  the  mes 
senger  and  opened  it.  His  face  fell  as  he  did  so. 
He  turned  to  the  messenger  and  said,  "  There  will 
be  no  reply."  As  the  messenger  got  out  of  ear 
shot,  he  turned  to  Best  and  read  aloud: — 


332          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"Mr.  Harold  Graham, 

"  DEAR  SIR  : — The  Abbess  at  St.  Mary's  con 
vent,  St.  Pierre,  would  be  pleased  to  see  you  at 
once,  and  about  a  topic  that  is  of  interest  to  you 
as  well  as  to  her. 

"  St.  Pierre,  Martinique." 

Graham  was  pale  and  trembling  by  this  time. 
Here  was  the  very  thing  he  longed  for,  for  the 
Abbess  to  know  of  his  affair  with  Olive,  and  now 
that  it  had  come,  he  quaked.  The  peremptory  tone 
of  the  note  made  him  fear.  Her  prejudices  were 
against  him.  He  reasoned, — "  Well,  I  might  have 
known  better.  Nothing  worth  while  was  ever 
gained  by  secrecy  and  stealth."  This  he  said  aloud. 

Best  instantly  said,  "  Now,  Harold,  don't  despair. 
I  am  sure  the  Abbess  wants  you  to  let  her  set  the 
day  for  the  wedding,  and  here  you  are  mourning 
lest  she  will  cut  you  off  altogether  because  you  have 
offended  against  certain  rules  of  the  convent  that 
only  love  can  or  is  entitled  to  break.  Go  to  the  city 
at  once.  I  will  go  with  you  and  drive  about  while 
you  interview  the  Abbess." 

An  hour  later  they  drew  up  in  front  of  the  con 
vent  and  Graham  slowly  got  out  and  walking 
through  the  gate  ascended  the  steps.  His  ring  was 
answered  by  a  nun  who  seemed  to  expect  him,  for 
she  asked  not  his  business,  as  was  customary  be- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          333 

fore  allowing  any  one  to  enter.  His  heart  palpitated 
loudly  as  he  stepped  inside.  He  was  seated  and  the 
nun  withdrew. 

In  a  minute  he  heard  footfalls  coming  from  some 
where.  He  felt  sure  he  would  now  reap  the  re 
ward  for  his  presumption  in  loving  Olive  and  try 
ing  to  win  her  as  he  had.  Through  the  door  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  hall  a  figure  stepped,  followed 
by  another.  The  first  was  Olive.  Before  she  of 
fered  any  greeting,  Graham  searched  her  pale  face 
for  some  sign  of  the  ordeal  before  them.  Her 
face  was  mobile,  yet  pale,  and  no  gaze  of  his  could 
penetrate  further  than  this.  The  Abbess  in  her 
black  cloak  and  white  bonnet  came  close  behind. 
Mr.  Graham  looked  upon  her  at  first  as  he  might 
had  she  been  a  she-dragon  instead  of  a  beautiful, 
sacrificing  soul,  who  even  now  was  doing  things 
for  Olive  and  him  that  the  convent  forbade. 

Olive  now  said,  "  Good-morning,  Mr.  Graham." 
Her  voice  was  soft  and  it  seemed  to  him  faltered  a 
little.  This  he  misunderstood  as  fear.  His  voice, 
however,  was  faltering  also,  faltering  and  meek 
ness  itself.  They  advanced  to  where  he  stood. 

"  Mr.  Graham,  this  is  the  Abbess.  Abbess,  this 
is  Mr.  Graham." 

Nothing  more.  A  simple  introduction  that  was 
followed  by  a  silence  which  was  awkward  and  pain 
ful  to  Graham.  Of  course  the  Abbess  had  not  of- 


334          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

fered  him  her  hand,  could  not,  for  one  of  Holy 
Orders  would  not  be  expected  to.  The  Abbess  broke 
the  awkward  silence,  "  My  ward  Olive  tells  me  you 
are  the  son  of  Mr.  Charles  Graham,  formerly  of 
New  York." 

"  I  am,"  he  replied. 

Surely  there  was  naught  of  rancor  in  her  voice. 

"  I  am  pleased  to  see  you,"  she  said. 

Olive  brought  some  chairs  and  they  were  seated 
near  him.  Seated,  and  the  Abbess  resumed  the  con 
versation. 

"  I  once  knew  your  father." 

"  You  did,"  said  he  eagerly,  for  by  this  acquain 
tance  he  hoped  to  gain  partial  expiation  for  his 
great  wrong  done  the  Abbess. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  knew  your  father,  not  well, 
but  through  slight  business  dealing." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  as  he  wondered  if  she  would  up 
braid  him  later. 

"  Last  night  Olive  told  me  of  you."  She  omit 
ted  to  give  any  particulars  as  to  why ;  "  and  I  at 
once  knew  who  you  were.  I  sent  for  you  for  that 
reason.  Had  I  not  had  previous  knowledge  of 
your  family,  I  might  not  have  done  this,"  and  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his  face  and  looked  at  him  for 
the  first  time  closely. 

He  was  struck  with  her  beauty,  the  angelic  sweet- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          335 

ness  of  her  expression.  He  understood  the  im 
plication  in  her  words. 

"  You  were  most  kind  to  do  it.  I  most  sincerely 
crave  forgiveness  for  the  deceitful  way  I  have 
treated  you,"  he  said. 

She  nodded  merely  at  this  and  said,  "  We  will 
come  to  that  later.  First  I  would  tell  you  a  story, 
would  you  listen  to  it,  for  it  concerns  you,  you  and 
Olive?" 

"  Yes,  I  would  indeed  care  to  listen." 

Then  she  commenced  and  told  the  same  story 
that  has  been  told  in  these  pages  before,  told  by 
the  Abbess  to  Olive,  told  in  part  by  Graham  him 
self  to  Olive,  only  the  Abbess  could  supply  details 
that  Graham  had  not  known.  She  told  the  story, 
however,  leaving  out  the  names,  save  that  of  Du- 
rand  and  of  his  father.  Graham  sat  a  perfect  list 
ener.  As  she  went  on,  he  wondered  how  she  knew 
it,  asking  himself  many  times,  "  Did  the  Abbess  take 
any  part  herself  in  what  she  is  relating?"  Al 
though  she  had  said  it  concerned  Olive  and  him 
self,  yet  he  in  no  way  thought  of  Olive  as  the  lost 
child.  He  had  thought  of  the  wronged  one  as  only 
a  child,  forgetting  the  lapse  of  years. 

When  she  had  finished,  he  said,  "  I  have  heard 
the  story  before.  Aye,  I  have  searched  for  this 
villain  you  have  mentioned.  It  was  an  injunction 
from  my  father  that  I  have  not  forgotten." 


336          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Abbess,  and  she  wondered  if  he 
suspected  she  and  Olive  took  a  part  in  the  story. 

"  He  is  here  in  St.  Pierre.  In  this  out  of  the 
way  island  I  have  located  him,  and  shall  soon  pro 
ceed  against  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Abbess,  as  if  to  draw  him  on. 

"  Soon,"  he  continued,  "  it  will  be  done,  and  then 
I  have,  in  the  name  of  justice,  carried  out  my 
promise  to  the  father  I  loved  so  well,  and  will  have 
Avenged  the  wrong  done  an  innocent  child." 

The  Abbess  glanced  at  Olive  who  returned  her 
glance.  He  did  not  know  that  Olive  was  the  in 
jured  child. 

"  You  would  then  avenge  the  wrong  in  what 
way?" 

"  By  the  arm  of  the  law." 

"  But  this  is  French  soil.  No  criminal  who  com 
mitted  a  crime  in  one  country  is  amenable  for  thai 
crime  in  another  country." 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  "  but  a  criminal  can  be  ex 
tradited." 

"  True.  But  by  the  law  of  God  one  will  be  pun 
ished.  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord.'  ' 

"  You  would  not  have  me  molest  the  man  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No,  or  not  until  you  have  exhausted  all  other 
means  to  the  end  that  he  may  disgorge  riches  that 
are  not  his.  The  law  can  be  resorted  to  then." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          337 

"  But  the  man  is  dangerous.  The  safety  of  so 
ciety  demands  that  he  be  molested  in  the  name  of 
the  law." 

"  Yes,  after  all  other  means  fail." 

Graham  suddenly  asked :  "  Tell  me,  Abbess,  how 
came  you  to  know  the  story  of  this  man  Durand. 
So  far  as  I  know,  none  other  but  me  knew  the 
story,  save  my  friend  Best  who  is  visiting  me  and 
to  whom  I  related  it." 

"  Can  you  not  guess?  "  she  said  slowly.  Graham 
looked  from  her  to  Olive  and  then  back  again. 
He  read  nothing  in  their  faces  that  gave  an  inkling 
as  to  what  the  Abbess  meant.  He  thought  a  min 
ute. 

"  I  have  not  always  been  in  a  convent,"  said 
the  Abbess,  as  if  to  assist  him.  He  looked  at  her 
curiously.  It  struck  him  suddenly  who  she  and 
Olive  were. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  "  I  see  it  now.  Olive  is  the 
child  Durand  wronged  and  you  were  the  nurse  from 
whom  she  was  stolen." 

The  Abbess  nodded. 

Olive  spoke. 

"  Until  last  night  I  did  not  know  who  you  were, 
that  is,  that  you  were  the  son  of  the  man  whom 
the  Abbess  knew.  Then  I  did  not  explain  for  the 
reason  that  I  did  not  want  you  to  know  all  about 
me;  at  least,  not  yet." 

22    , 


338          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

As  she  let  the  words  "  not  yet "  fall  from  her 
lips,  she  colored  prettily.  Graham  understood  and 
made  no  reply.  Indeed  he  looked  confused. 

Graham  felt  he  should  speak.  "  Abbess,"  he 
said,  "  I  am  glad  you  sent  for  me.  Glad  for  Olive's 
sake  and  for  my  own.  I  am  glad  to  know  that 
the  one  whose  cause  I  championed  and  whose 
wrong-doer  I  sought  should  prove  to  be  your  ward, 
for  whom  I  have  the  most  tender  affection.  I  am 
speaking  boldly.  Yes,  I  am,  but  my  pent-up  feel 
ing  while  but  the  culmination  of  two  weeks'  ac 
quaintance,  yet  compels  my  speech.  That  Olive, 
however,  should  be  the  one  whom  this  man  Du- 
rand  defrauded  of  her  own  is  a  great  surprise  to 
me,  and  only  serves  to  make  stronger  my  regard 
for  her.  Abbess,  let  me  explain  my  conduct  to  you. 
If  these  meetings  between  Olive  and  myself  have 
not  met  with  your  approval,  I  pray  you  to  lay  all 
blame  upon  me.  It  was  I  who  sought  it ;  I  who  al 
lowed  it,  and  Olive  merely  consented  to  the  plans. 
Upon  me  all  the  blame  should  fall.  I  regret  that 
the  sanctity  of  this  holy  place  should  in  any  way  be 
pervaded  by  the  worldly  affairs  of  man,  yet  often 
love  is  supreme  and  before  it  the  rights  of  man 
must  bow,  the  traditions  of  religion  go  down  if  need 
be  that  its  end  may  be  accomplished.  Forgive  us, 
Abbess.  Forgive  us." 

"  Aye,"  said  the  Abbess.     "  All  is  forgiven.     A 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          339 

supplicant  other  than  you  had  preceded  your  ap 
peal  and  received  forgiveness."  Graham  glanced 
at  Olive  who  looked  confusedly  at  the  floor. 

"  Abbess,"  he  said,  "  I  just  mentioned  that  love 
was  supreme.  Believing  this,  I  ask  your  consent 
to  offer  my  love  to  Olive." 

The  Abbess  said,  "  Olive  is  no  longer  a  child, 
though  I  might  wish  she  was,  for  I  would  fain 
keep  her  here  forever,  but  a  bird  of  freedom  will 
droop  if  caged.  Before  you  came,  she  was  content 
here.  But  love  has  changed  her.  Now  she  could 
not  be  content,  and  I  am  not  selfish.  Self-abnega 
tion  is  a  first  great  lesson,  so  I  forfeit  my  right 
to  Olive  to  you.  I  would  not,  could  not  ask  for 
anything  only  that  which  will  bring  to  her  the 
greatest  happiness.  You  have  my  consent,"  and 
she  nodded  toward  Graham. 

"  Olive,  our  meetings  have  been  secret,  at  least 
without  the  knowledge  and  consent  of  the  Abbess. 
For  this  reason  I  am  bold  now.  I  have  longed  for 
this  chance  to  tell  you  of  my  love.  As  we  have 
been  meeting  outside  without  the  consent  of  the 
Abbess  let  me  now  make  bold  in  her  presence. 
Olive,  you  must  already  know  I  love  and  would 
wed  you.  Tell  me  that  you  love  me." 

She  looked  at  the  Abbess  and  blushed  prettily 
before  she  spoke  or  acted.  Graham  came  closer 
to  her  as  she  said, 


340          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Yes  Harold,  it  is  true.    I  love  you." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms.  What  did  it  matter  if 
this  holy  woman  was  by,  this  woman  who  by  her 
vows  could  kiss  no  man  nor  allow  any  man  to  kiss 
her?  What  did  it  count  should  the  whole  universe 
stand  by  as  spectators?  Love  was  here  supreme, 
and  the  first  virgin  kiss  was  its  seal  and  nothing 
should  prevent  it. 

When  Graham  came  out  a  half  hour  later  he  had 
a  smile  on  his  face,  a  more  elastic  spring  in  his  step 
as  he  walked  up  the  street  in  the  direction  of  the 
Plaza  Hotel.  He  was  looking  for  Best  that  he 
might  go  with  him  and  hear  him  denounce  the 
coward,  hear  him,  in  lieu  of  a  despoiled  woman, 
make  demands  upon  the  cur  who  had  despoiled 
her.  He  found  Best  sitting  on  the  piazza,  com 
placently  smoking. 

Best  glanced  at  him.  "  My,  Harold !  what  has 
happened?  Your  face  is  as  beaming  as  a  negro's 
at  sight  of  a  water-melon.  But  tell  me  about  it. 
Have  you  conquered  the  ire  of  the  Abbess  and  so 
quickly?  " 

"  There  was  no  ire  to  conquer." 

"  No,  then  the  Abbess  succumbed  to  your  charms 
as  easily  as  did  the  girl.  I  supposed  nuns  were  im 
mune  against  the  snares  of  men.  But  are  you  en 
gaged?  Tell  me  quickly." 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham,  "  we  are." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          341 

"  I  thought  so.  Nothing  short  of  it  would  cause 
that  jubilant  expression. 

"  As  to  details,"  broke  in  Graham,  "  leave  that 
for  some  other  time.  I  have  something  on  now 
more  important  than  details." 

"Well?" 

Graham  arose  and  stood  in  front  of  Best.  Draw 
ing  himself  up,  he  said,  "  Frank,  I  can  now  boast 
that  I  am  fully  qualified  to  champion  Olive's  cause 
against  Durand.  Fortified  with  my  successes  of 
the  day,  I  will  immediately  see  this  Durand.  Will 
you  go  with  me?  Not  that  I  fear  him,  but  the 
presence  of  we  two  who  have  frustrated  him  in  the 
past  may  awe  him  and  make  my  task  easy.  Will 
you  go  with  me?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  would  not  allow  you  to  go  alone, 
for  the  man  you  would  deal  with  is  dangerous."' 

They  entered  the  hotel  and  then  inquired  if  M. 
Durand  was  in  his  room.  Being  met  with  an  affirm 
ative  answer,  they  sent  up  their  cards. 

Durand  was  in  his  room  when  the  cards  were 
brought  in.  He  looked  at  both  names  and  it  did 
not  occur  to  him  that  he  knew  these  men  who  de 
sired  an  audience  with  him.  Even  the  name  Gra 
ham  awoke  no  more  than  a  passing  notice.  There 
were  many  Grahams  in  the  world  and  he  did  not 
remember  any  Harold.  He  had  only  seen  him  once 
and  that  was  insufficient  to  remember  so  small  a 


342          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

thing  of  a  man  as  his  first  name,  even  had  he  heard 
it 

He  would  see  the  men ;  they  might  be  shown  up, 
he  told  the  boy.  A  minute  later  they  came.  He 
arose  to  greet  them  but  stumbled  back  into  his 
chair  without  having  offered  his  hand  in  greeting. 
He  was  not  pleased  with  his  visitors.  He  glanced 
at  the  cards  again,  and  read  the  name  "  Graham." 
He  looked  the  men  over,  and  saw  in  one  a  resem 
blance  to  the  father  he  had  known.  "  Fool,"  he 
thought,  "  why  had  not  I  thought  of  this  before?  " 

The  effrontery  of  Durand  was  not  as  pronounced 
as  before.  The  rebuffs  he  had  met  in  his  efforts  to 
wed  Olive  had  taken  from  him  at  least  a  little  of  his 
great  assurance.  Before  he  might  have  known 
exactly  what  procedure  would  be  desirable  under 
present  conditions.  Now  he  merely  gazed  in  amaze 
ment  as  he  realized  Graham's  identity.  He  was 
too  amazed  to  inquire  the  business  that  brought 
them  there,  or  knowing,  he  dreaded  mentioning  it. 
They  stared  at  each  other  for  a  moment  as  if  tak 
ing  one  another's  measure,  Best  looking  on.  Gra 
ham  broke  this  silence : 

"  Your  name  is  Herbert  Durand  is  it  not?  " 

"  It  is,  sir." 

"  So  I  thought,"  said  Graham.  "  Strange,  too, 
that  you  have  not  used  a  disguised  name,  for  you 
have  reason  to  use  such  a  name." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          343 

Durand  fired  up.  "  You  have  come  here  to  berate 
me,  and  you  a  stranger?  I  shall  not  allow  this. 
Will  you  retire,  please?" 

"  No,  I  will  not.  I  have  come  here  to  denounce 
you,  and  denounce  you  I  will  before  I  leave.  I  have 
also  come  here  to  exact  justice  to  a  wronged  wo 
man.  I  might  have  begun  my  speech  to  you  in 
softer  terms.  I  might  first  have  tried  reasoning  and 
argument,  but  they  would  have  availed  nothing,  so 
I  come  at  you  as  I  do,  come  at  you  in  the  only 
way  open  to  deal  with  one  of  your  stamp." 

"  You  are  getting  excited,"  said  Durand. 
"  Since  you  will  not  leave  at  my  request,  sit  down 
and  let  us  find  out  what  reason  you  have  for  this 
visit,  these  denouncing  words  and  your  excitement." 

It  was  plain  Durand  realized  Graham  to  be 
greatly  in  earnest.  Best  was  surprised  at  the  great 
earnestness  of  his  friend,  surprised  at  his  fierce 
manner  that  left  no  room  for  compromise. 

"What  brings  you  here?"  asked  Durand.  He 
was  playing  for  time  and  fast  regaining  his  old 
confidence  now  that  a  fight  or  contest  was  in  sight. 

"  I  am  here  in  the  name  of  justice,  of  equity,  and 
to  demand  reparation,  to  demand  a  settlement  of 
the  estate  of  Olive  James,  who  as  a  little  girl, 
many  years  ago,  you  robbed  of  her  birthright." 
Graham  was  less  excited  now. 

"Ah,  that  is  all?     Then  if  that  is  all,  young 


344          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

man,  you  may  go  on  about  your  business,  for  any 
such  settlement  as  you  ask  for  will  never  be  made 
by  me." 

"  I  shall  invoke  the  aid  of  the  law." 

"  The  law  of  this  God-forsaken  island  will  give 
you  little  assistance." 

"  But  the  American  consul  can." 

"  Can  he?    Well,  go  ahead  and  we  will  see." 

"  You  don't  deny  that  you  are  Durand,  the  rob 
ber  of  this  girl?  " 

"  I  deny  and  affirm  nothing,  nothing.  You  are 
making  the  case  against  me." 

:<  Yes  and  I  have  the  proofs  too,  and  strong  wit 
nesses,  none  less  than  the  Abbess  at  St.  Mary's 
Convent  who  knows  you  and  your  perfidy." 

Durand  made  no  reply  to  this.  It  had  been  the 
intention  of  Graham  to  make  strong  charges  against 
Durand,  at  first  using  strong  accusations  and 
threats  to  the  end  that  he  might  be  intimidated,  and 
would  consent  to  a  settlement.  He  thought  now  the 
proper  time  to  try  this :  "  Cannot  you  and  I  avoid 
future  trouble,  and  in  this  way?  You  agree  to 
turn  over  this  original  fortune  intrusted  to  you 
by  this  girl's  father.  The  use  or  interest  on  this 
original  amount,  if  well  guarded,  will  be  sufficient 
to  keep  you  well  if  you  retain  it.  We  will  consent 
that  you  keep  this,  giving  us  only  the  original 
principal." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          345 

"  Never,"  said  Durand. 

Graham  replied.  "  I  have  delayed  seeing  the 
consul  for  many  days,  hoping  some  way  might  be 
found  that  your  arrest  might  be  avoided.  Now  I 
can  see  naught  ahead  for  you  but  arrest  and  extra 
dition." 

Durand  merely  shut  his  lips  tight.  True  he 
feared  the  law,  but  he  loved  money  more,  and  he 
would  never  relinquish  his  hold  on  Olive's  dower 
if  arrested  and  imprisoned  for  not  doing  so. 

"Cannot  we  get  together  in  some  way?"  again 
asked  Graham. 

Durand  thought  a  minute.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I 
think  we  can.  I  hope  so  any  way." 

"  Tell  me  how,"  eagerly  said  Graham  as  he  tilted 
his  chair  forward  toward  Durand. 

"  Simple  enough.     We  can  compromise." 

"How?" 

"  I  will  give  to  you  personally  one  quarter  of 
the  estate  if  you  will  not  molest  me,  and  the  estate 
has  not  shrunken  any  since  I  have  had  it  either." 

Graham's  answer  came  quickly.  Like  a  tiger 
springing  upon  his  prey,  he  sprang  upon  Durand, 
striking  him  a  powerful  blow  that  felled  him  like 
an  ox.  "  You  hound,  you  cur,  you  ask  me  to  assist 
you  in  this  robbery  ?  Get  up  that  I  may  knock  you 
down  again." 

Best   spoke   here.      "  Harold,"    he   said,    "  com- 


346         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

pose  yourself."  His  quieting  order  had  the  desired 
effect,  for  Graham  immediately  sank  back  in  his 
chair. 

Durand  arose  quickly  and  turned  to  his  dresser. 
Opening  a  drawer  he  took  from  it  something  they 
did  not  see  until  he  turned  around.  "  Damn  you !  " 
he  said.  "  The  other  night  to  my  sorrow  I  was 
caught  without  a  weapon.  Then  you  and  your 
friend  won  out.  Now  I  am  armed  and  shall  settle 
with  you  for  this  insult.  I  will  kill  you  where  you 
sit."  He  glared  at  Graham,  who  turned  pale.  The 
revolver  clicked  ominously. 

"  Drop  that  gun  or  I'll  blow  you  into  h — 1  this 
instant,"  sounded  the  voice  of  Best.  "  Again  I 
have  the  drop  on  you." 

Durand  looked  at  Best  and  saw  his  revolver 
pointed  at  his  head.  He  knew  one  whose  marks 
manship  was  good  enough  to  hit  horses  in  motion 
was  a  dangerous  one  to  dispute.  Besides,  Durand 
at  bay  was  a  coward.  He  dropped  the  gun  to  the 
floor.  Best  picked  it  up  and  tossed  it  back  on 
the  dresser. 

"  I  am  unarmed,"  said  Durand  as  he  faced  Gra 
ham,  "  yet  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will 
fight  a  duel  with  you.  The  money  and  the  girl 
shall  be  the  stakes.  Since  you  will  not  compromise 
I  make  you  this  offer." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          347 

"  The  girl,"  said  Graham.  "  She  would  die 
rather  than  marry  you." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  so.  I  am  not  so  bad,"  said 
Durand.  "  Many  women  have  been  willing.  Some 
are  even  now." 

"  Yes,  but  no  decent  ones,  I  am  sure.  No,  I  will 
not  fight  you.  I  am  no  coward  either.  I  should  ex 
pect  treachery  in  some  form,  for  men  like  you  are 
cowards  and  never  fight  in  the  open.  If  I  were 
killed,  you  might  go  on  with  your  nefarious  plots 
and  ways,  and  indeed  steal  Olive  for  a  third  time; 
in  other  words,  make  good  your  attempt  of  a  few 
nights  ago.  No,  I  repeat,  I  will  not  fight  you,  and 
I  am  not  a  coward  either." 

"  What  ?  You  will  not  fight.  You  will  not  com 
promise  matters.  Damn  you.  You  are  different 
from  your  father.  He  could  compromise  at  least." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir?  "  this  sternly. 

"  Just  this.  The  son  gets  angry  over  an  offer  of 
a  compromise  that  the  father,  in  the  same  matter, 
accepted,  and  for  a  generous  slice  forever  held  his 
peace." 

"  'Tis  a  lie,"  said  Graham,  as  he  again  sprang 
at  him.  This  time  Best  stepped  between  Durand 
and  Harold,  saying,  "  Calm  yourself." 

But  Graham  was  not  so  easily  calmed  this  time. 
The  insinuation  that  his  father  was  a  party  to  the 


348          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

defrauding  of  Olive  was  a  cut  that  sank  deep  into 
the  quick. 

"  You  coward,"  he  cried,  "  it  is  beneath  the  dig 
nity  of  any  gentleman  to  notice  you,  but  that  the 
earth  may  be  rid  of  the  greatest  lying  villain,  robber 
and  despoiler  of  dead  men's  good  names,  I  will  fight 
you  anywhere  and  any  way  you  may  suggest." 

"  Good,"  said  Durand.  "  We  will  arrange  this. 
I  will  send  you  the  name  of  my  second  and  details 
later.  You  may  do  the  same." 

A  sardonic  smile  played  on  his  face  as  he  showed 
them  out.  Closing  the  door  he  said  to  himself, 
"  Well,  that  thrust  about  his  father  did  the  business. 
If  he  don't  die  as  a  result  of  this  duel,  I  miss  my 
guess." 

He  rang  the  bell  violently.  Le  Tosco  appeared 
in  a  minute,  and  an  interview  of  an  hour's  dura 
tion  followed. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          349 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BEST  tried  to  persuade  Graham  not  to  fight.  He 
was  afraid  of  treachery.  He  knew  Durand  would 
not  be  so  anxious  unless  he  had  in  mind  some  trick 
for  the  undoing  of  Graham. 

"  I  shall  fight  him,"  Graham  replied.  "  His 
damnable  implication  that  my  father  shared  in  the 
robbery  shall  not  go  unpunished.  I  have  much  to 
live  for  now.  There  is  Olive  and  the  restoration 
of  her  fortune,  now  that  Durand  has  been  dis 
covered.  Do  you  think  I  could  become  the  husband 
of  Olive  so  long  as  this  villain  is  alive  and 
dares  to  renew  his  base  charges  that  my  father 
assisted  in  defrauding  the  girl  I  would  marry? 
Besides  I  have  no  fear  of  the  outcome,  for  some 
thing  tells  me  I  shall  be  unharmed ;  something  tells 
me  the  future  will  yet  be  resplendent  with  peace 
and  I  shall  reap  the  fruits  of  love.  In  the  name 
of  a  just  cause  I  will  fight  him ;  in  justice  to  Olive, 
in  justice  to  the  father  I  loved." 

Best  gave  him  his  hand.  "  Well  said,  Harold. 
You  have  bravery.  I  never  doubted  it,  yet  watch 
out  for  treachery." 


350         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Best  came  to  the  city  again  that  day.  He  learned 
from  Durand  that  one  La  Monta,  whom  the  reader 
knows  as  he  who  had  initiated  Durand  as  a  Devil 
Worshipper,  was  to  be  Durand's  second.  La  Monta 
was  summoned  by  Durand,  and  he  and  Best  ar 
ranged  all  the  preliminaries,  which  were  as  fol 
lows  :  Durand,  La  Monta  and  a  surgeon  were  to 
leave  the  hotel  in  their  carriage  at  exactly  six 
o'clock  the  next  morning,  following  along  the  Fort 
de  France  road.  Precisely  at  this  time,  Graham 
and  Best  were  to  leave  the  former's  home  and  pro 
ceed  toward  the  city.  Both  parties  were  to  drive  at 
a  six  mile  pace,  and  whenever  they  met,  they  were 
to  alight  and  fight  with  pistols,  at  twenty  paces. 

The  next  morning  at  daylight  both  Best  and 
Graham  \vere  early  astir.  Graham  took  his  pistols 
and  went  out  to  the  roadside  where  he  took  several 
shots  at  a  target  of  paper  pinned  to  a  tree.  He  was 
not  unused  to  firearms,  but  of  late  had  paid  little 
attention  to  his  marksmanship.  The  previous  after 
noon  he  had  practised  considerably,  and  found  his 
cunningness  of  aim  was  not  less  sure  than  of 
old.  Now  to  test  his  nerve  he  tried  again  and  found 
his  sureness  of  aim  had  not  deteriorated  during  the 
night,  in  which  he  had  slept  well.  He  had  formu 
lated  plans  as  well  as  improved  his  shooting  ability. 
He  did  not  believe  Durand  was  as  eager  for  the  duel 
as  he  claimed.  He  reasoned  that  if  he  could  wing 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          351 

him,  as  it  were,  the  duel  would  stop  there,  and  that 
in  the  future  he  would  not  be  molested  by  him, 
neither  he  nor  Olive. 

His  deductions  were  correct  regarding  Du- 
rand's  bravery,  yet  he  had  forgotten  one  insidious 
characteristic  of  his  enemy,  that  of  treachery,  for 
it  was  true  Durand  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  mak 
ing  himself  a  target  and  had  planned  otherwise. 
Graham  knew  naught  of  his  intentions  and  believed 
that  a  shot  in  the  arm  or  hand  perhaps  would  throw 
his  enemy  into  fear,  and  cause  him  to  abandon 
thoughts  of  revenge  and  to  be  pacificatory  in  the 
future.  Graham  realized  he  ran  some  danger,  in 
spite  of  the  thought,  as  he  told  Best,  that  he  would 
be  unharmed.  He  was  angry  enough  at  Durand 
when  his  father's  name  was  slandered  to  have  killed 
him  outright. 

His  later  deliberations  and  more  sober  thoughts 
were  responsible  for  the  conviction  that  he  did  not 
care  to  pose  as  a  murderer  and  would  be  satisfied 
to  wound  him,  to  draw  his  blood  and  avenge  the 
aspersion  of  his  father's  name,  and  yet  not  in 
jure  him  fatally.  He  relied  on  his  marksmanship 
to  make  the  latter  feat  possible.  After  the  practice 
this  morning,  the  two  friends  retired  within  the 
house  and  partook  of  their  breakfast,  after  which, 
it  being  six  o'clock,  they  started  at  once  for  St. 
Pierre. 


352          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

At  the  same  time  Durand  and  his  friend,  La 
Monta,  with  coachman  and  a  surgeon  left  the  Plaza 
hotel,  swinging  out  of  the  city,  and  taking  the 
Fort  de  France  road.  The  surgeon,  a  Frenchman, 
grumbled  at  the  earliness  of  the  hour,  saying  he 
was  unable  to  understand  why  Christian  gentlemen 
could  not  settle  their  affairs  at  more  decent  hours. 

The  two  vehicles  sped  toward  one  another,  the 
occupants  of  each  with  vigilant  eye  watching  each 
turn  of  the  road  for  the  appearance  of  the  other. 
At  last  they  sighted  one  another.  It  was  the  sig 
nal  for  decreased  speed. 

The  place  where  they  met  was  exactly  half  way 
between  the  Plaza  hotel  and  Graham's  plantation. 
Their  speed  had  been  practically  the  same  and  was 
responsible  for  this  fact,  a  fact  that  Durand  ap 
preciated,  for  it  was  his  plan  to  have  it  so,  a  plan 
as  dark  and  diabolical  as  devil  ever  inspired  or  man 
executed. 

This  place  was  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
any  habitation,  and  while  not  especially  lonely  was 
out  of  danger  or  view  from  the  commercial  clientele 
of  this  northern  part  of  the  island.  On  the  left 
hand,  looking  toward  St.  Pierre,  was  the  level  sweep 
of  a  plantation,  cleared  and  cultivated,  but  with  no 
fence  or  barrier  against  him  who  would  outrage 
this  soil  by  shedding  human  blood  there,  or  against 
the  simple  encroachers  who  might  desire  to  leave 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          353 

the  road  and  trespass.  On  the  opposite  side,  how 
ever,  was  a  hill  covered  with  small  trees  and  an 
undergrowth  that  made  it  nearly  inaccessible. 

The  two  principals  stepped  from  their  respective 
vehicles  and  glanced  at  each  other  a  moment.  Du- 
rand  turned  his  face  away  and  took  from  his  pocket 
a  white  kerchief  with  which  he  wiped  his  face, 
then  it  fluttered  to  the  ground.  It  looked  to  be 
accident  or  inadvertence,  yet  had  one  known  the 
inside  of  the  plot  and  followed  the  glance  of  Du- 
rand,  he  would  have  seen  a  certain  bush  or  small 
tree  at  his  left  and  on  the  upper  side  of  the  road, 
shiver  and  bend  slightly  as  if  some  force  other  than 
the  trade-winds  were  agitating  it.  Durand  with 
drew  his  gaze  and  a  look  of  satisfaction  played 
upon  his  sinister  features. 

The  surgeon  unloaded  a  case  of  instruments  for 
any  contingencies  that  might  arise.  Durand  looked 
at  this  and  said  nothing. 

A  little  distance  away  stood  Graham,  leisurely 
awaiting  the  pleasure  of  the  other  party.  La  Monta 
had  explained  to  Best  that  he  had  participated  in 
similar  little  affairs  before,  and  so  was  made  master 
of  ceremonies  as  well  as  Durand's  second.  Briskly 
he  moved  about,  his  little  figure  looking  more  pudgy 
and  shriveled  than  ever. 

Carefully  he  measured  the  distance,  pacing  it 
and  stepping  as  far  in  doing  so  as  his  short  legs 


354          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

would  allow.  This  done  he  said  in  French.  "  Mat 
ters  of  this  kind  are  better  settled  than  deferred. 
Get  ready  at  once." 

Durand  coolly  took  his  place  without  a  word, 
and  watched  Graham,  who  did  not  keep  him  wait 
ing-  long.  The  two  faced  each  other.  From  their 
facial  expression,  it  could  not  be  said  either  showed 
fear.  On  the  contrary,  both  looked  confidently  at 
the  outcome,  one  relying'  on  his  marksmanship  and 
the  other  on  fiendish  trickery. 

La  Monta  said,  "  Have  both  arranged  your 
earthly  affairs  ?  "  Durand  replied  in  the  affirmative. 
Graham  merely  nodded.  He  did  not  expect  to  die, 
then  why  should  he  make  any  arrangements  that 
might  be  put  into  execution  after  his  exit. 

La  Monta  said,  "  Is  all  in  readiness  ?  " 

Both  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  Positions  "  he  called  out.  "  Get  ready.  When 
I  count  three,  fire." 

In  French  he  slowly  called,  "  One,  two,  three." 

There  was  but  one  report,  although  both  had 
aimed,  and  apparently  meant  to  fire. 

The  smoke  lifted.  Graham  was  unharmed,  while 
Durand  had  dropped  his  pistol  to  the  ground.  His 
right  hand  in  which  he  held  it  was  bleeding  badly. 
He  was  dancing  about.  The  aim  of  Graham  had 
proven  true.  The  surgeon  rushed  toward  Durand 
as  if  to  assist  him.  With  his  left  hand  he  quickly 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          355 

picked  tip  the  pistol  and  tried  to  aim  it  at  Graham. 
Although  his  hand  shook  and  faltered  as  he  aimed 
it  yet  his  determination  was  good.  "  Damn  you," 
he  said,  "  I  will  kill  you  anyway,  even  if  my  luck 
i^:'.^-':  :: ::  •-.  r.'.;r/r.£:  ;;  ;-• 

The  pistol  was  wavering  in  his  hand  as  he  pulled 
the  trigger.  Crack,  it  sounded.  La  Monta  saw 
what  he  was  doing  but  made  no  effort  to  stop  him. 
Best,  on  the  other  hand,  had  just  come  forward 
and  congratulated  Graham  on  his  escape  and  marks 
manship  when  he  glanced  at  Durand  and  saw  his 
murderous  move.  He  sprang  upon  him,  and  to 
gether  they  went  to  the  earth. 

This  move  of  Bests,  however,  was  unnecessary 
a-  it  proved,  although  in  keeping  with  bravery  and 
safety.  \Ye  mentioned  the  glances  of  Durand  to 
ward  the  bushes  on  the  opposite  roadside.  From 
them  now  came  forth  a  howl  of  pain,  a  howl  of  in 
jured  humanity.  Be=t  was  quickly  on  his  feet  and 
drew  his  own  pistoL  "  Xo  more  treachery,  Du 
rand,"  he  shouted  "  or  you  die." 

From  the  bushes  emerged  a  native,  hatless  and 
excited.  Like  a  wild  Apache  he  danced  about,  and 
then  fell  on  his  face  in  the  dusty  road.  It  was  Le 

"  I  am  a  dead  man,"  be  said.  "  My  God!  get  a 
priest  q:r*ck.  Get  a  priest ! "  he  shouted,  as  Best 
and  Graham  were  first  to  reach  him. 


356         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Graham,  "  are  you  injured?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  dying.  In  the  name  of  the  Blessed 
Mother  get  a  priest." 

"  Where  are  you  injured?  " 

"  Here,"  he  said,  as  he  pulled  up  his  trouser  leg 
and  showed  a  bullet  hole  just  above  the  ankle. 

"  That  shot  of  Durand's  did  this,"  said  Best. 

"  Yes,"  said  Le  Tosco,  "  and  I  am  a  dead  man. 
Oh,  oh !  Get  a  priest,  I  say." 

"  Be  quiet,"  said  Best.  "  A  wound  of  this  kind 
is  not  fatal.  You  will  be  all  right  after  the  sur 
geon  fixes  you  up  a  bit.  Calm  yourself." 

"  Nay,"  said  Le  Tosco.  "  It  is  fatal.  This  bul 
let  of  M.  Durand's  was  poisoned.  I  soaked  the 
cartridge  in  the  virus  of  the  fer-de-lance  myself." 

"  Poisoned !  "  cried  Graham,  horrified  at  what  he 
had  escaped. 

"Yes,"  said  Le  Tosco.  "At  M.  Durand's  re 
quest  I  poisoned  these  bullets.  Some  of  the  poisoned 
bullets  were  in  his  pocket,  some  in  mine.  The 
ones  in  his  were  only  to  be  used  if  necessary.  You 
noticed  he  did  not  fire  at  first.  I  was  to  do  it  for 
him.  In  fact  I  was  to  fire  at  the  count  of  two  in 
stead  of  waiting  for  the  third  count.  If  I  missed  he 
was  to  fire  himself.  This  I  tried  to  do  but  my 
pistol  failed.  The  cartridges  were  too  wet  from 
soaking  in  the  poison  of  the  fer-de-lance.  I  tried 
twice.  The  next  thing  M.  Durand  fired,  and  I  was 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          357 

hit  and  now  I  die.  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  im 
ploringly  to  Graham.  "  Forgive  me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham,  "  I  do." 

La  Monta  and  Durand  came  forward  now.  Du- 
rand  had  heard  what  Le  Tosco  had  said.  Best 
again  covered  Durand  with  his  gun.  "  No  trickery 
this  time,  Durand,  or  you  will  die  in  your  tracks." 

Durand,  a  bit  cowed,  replied,  as  the  surgeon  with 
a  tourniquet  bound  tight  the  leg  of  Le  Tosco  above 
the  wound,  thereby  stopping  the  poison  from  get 
ting  through  his  system,  "  I  am  sorry  I  fired  upon 
Mr.  Graham  so  unwarrantably,  yet  my  wound 
crazed  me.  This  man  here  tells  you  a  falsehood.  I 
never  saw  him  before.  I  have  made  no  such  com 
pact  with  him  as  he  says.  He  is  probably  some 
native  who  saw  our  affair  here  and  has  inflicted  a 
self-wound  that  he  might  gain  sympathy  and  a 
competence.  What  he  says  is  untrue." 

"  What  you  say  is  a  lie,"  said  a  voice  behind 
them.  "  The  wounded  man  spoke  the  truth.  I  can 
prove  it." 

It  was  a  woman  who  spoke.  Neither  Graham 
nor  Best  knew  the  sound  of  her  voice  or  the  face 
as  they  looked  upon  her.  However,  Durand  evi 
dently  knew  the  voice  and  was  surprised  to  hear  it, 
for  he  turned  and  looked  into  the  face  of  Made 
moiselle  Sara  Le  Blanc  or  Mademoiselle  Lillith  as 
the  Devil  Worshippers  called  her. 


358         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

ONCE,  after  the  ride  in  which  Durand  and  Sara 
met  the  Abbess  and  Olive  together  with  the  con 
vent  children  returning  from  the  picnic  up  Pelee's 
side,  did  Mademoiselle  Sara  see  Durand  face  to 
face  and  alone.  This  meeting  was  brief  and  to 
the  point. 

M.  Divan  was  making  a  beast  of  himself  now. 
The  subtle  poison  of  absinthe  was  in  his  veins  and 
drew  him  on  with  an  irresistible  force  and  power 
that  only  those  addicted  to  it  understand,  that  the 
very  few  who  have  thrown  off  its  awful  influence 
know  justly  how  to  fear.  Each  day  her  love  for 
Durand  grew;  each  day  she  saw  more  in  her  own 
life  to  condemn  and  each  day  longed  to  quit  it. 
Marriage  to  Durand  offered  the  only  way  of  escape 
from  her  present  condition,  and  her  affection  for 
Durand  came  nearer  the  genuine  article  than  she  had 
experienced  for  any  of  the  number  of  her  former 
lovers.  Unlike  the  virgin  Queen  Elizabeth,  after 
long  experience  she  longed  for  one  lover  who  would 
be  constant.  Mademoiselle  Sara  met  Durand  on 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          359 

the  stairs  one  evening  as  she  descended  to  go  to 
the  temple  where  some  awful  incantation,  prelim 
inary  to  the  grand  fete,  now  only  a  short  time 
off,  would  take  place.  He  had  drawn  aside  to  let 
her  pass,  but  she  stopped. 

"  M.  Durand,  you  do  not  come  to  the  temple  any 
more.  What  is  the  reason?  I  miss  you.  On  the 
ocean  you  were  attentive  to  me,  but  now  I  see  you 
not  at  all."  There  was  pleading  in  her  voice,  but 
he  smiled  at  her  earnestness. 

"  What  difference  can  it  make  to  you  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  I  admit  I  am  interested  in  you,"  she  said. 
"  Once  you  were  in  me.  Yet  lately  you  avoid  me. 
Is  it  that  you  care  less  for  me  or  more  for  the  con 
vent  maid  we  saw  the  other  day  ?  " 

"  You  are  right  in  both  deductions,"  he  said. 

"  And  am  I  nothing  to  you  now  ?  " 

"  No,  and  never  will  be,"  he  said.  "  I  have  a 
liking  for  the  young  and  the  beautiful,  especially 
where  the  beautiful  is  young.  This  is  not  so  in 
your  case." 

r<  Then  I  am  nothing  to  you  ?  " 

"  No." 

She  might  have  berated  him.  She  might  have 
shrieked  and  feigned  faintness,  but  she  did  neither. 
She  drew  her  skirts  about  her  and  continued  down 
and  to  the  Temple. 


360          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

This  happened  at  about  the  time  of  Durand's  en 
counter  with  Graham  at  the  convent  gate,  or  a  few 
days  later.  He  believed  then  he  would  win  Olive. 
It  was  before  he  had  met  many  rebuffs,  before  he 
had  failed  to  capture  her,  and  before  he  had  learned 
Graham's  name  and  identity.  Believing  in  him 
self,  he  had  not  reckoned  that  he  might  care  some 
day  for  Sara's  friendship. 

Mademoiselle  Sara  was  no  respecter  of  persons. 
She  had  loved  best  those  who  could  best  provide 
for  her.  She  could  hate,  with  a  vengeance  that  was 
unfeigned,  any  who  crossed  or  rejected  her.  She 
then  and  there  resolved  that  henceforth  Durand 
was  her  enemy,  upon  whom  her  vengeance  should 
fall.  He  had  scorned  her.  He  had  refused  to 
marry  her.  His  offer  to  make  her  his  mistress  had 
not  jarred  on  her  sense  of  propriety,  but  his  rejec 
tion  of  her  only  terms  on  which  she  would  come  to 
him  fired  her  hatred,  aroused  the  slumbering 
fiendishness  that  is  in  every  heart,  only  in  most 
people  it  is  controlled  by  environment  and  the  will. 

She  sought  not  vengeance  on  Olive  either,  as  most 
women  would.  She  was  wise  enough  to  lay  her 
own  chagrin  to  the  one  responsible  for  it.  She 
knew  he  believed  he  was  in  love  with  the  convent 
girl,  and  this  only  enhanced  her  passion.  She  re 
solved  to  watch  him,  to  know  his  moves  and  in 
the  end  frustrate  his  plans  and  bring  him  to  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          361 

dust.  Her  evil  ways  had  always  run  on  unchecked, 
and  as  an  evil  woman,  one  who  so  far  had  but 
once  shown  herself  to  possess  womanly  attributes, 
and  that  once  when  she  admitted  to  Durand  at  the 
time  she  kidnapped  Olive  that  she  really  liked  the 
child,  she  plotted  the  undoing  of  Durand  to  the 
extent  that  she  would  kill  him  if  necessary,  to  re 
mind  him  that  she  could  hate  instead  of  love. 

With  this  in  view,  she  watched  his  door;  she 
listened  to  his  conversation  with  his  visitors.  She 
heard  him  and  Le  Tosco  discuss  and  plan  the  plot 
to  capture  and  conceal  Olive.  It  was  the  rustling 
of  her  skirts  that  they  had  heard  outside  the  door 
as  they  plotted.  She  would  have  sought  out  the 
girl  and  the  Abbess  then  and  warned  them,  only 
it  would  be  more  confusing  to  Durand  did  she  allow 
the  girl  to  be  captured,  and  then  reveal  the  girl's 
whereabouts  and  expose  him  to  the  law  of  the  is 
land.  She  was  glad,  however,  when  she  heard  Du 
rand  return  and  notify  Le  Tosco  his  plans  had  mis 
carried,  for  it  saved  her  from  showing  her  hand 
as  yet. 

As  an  eavesdropper,  she  feared  she  would  be 
discovered  outside  Durand's  door,  so  she  hired 
the  room  next  his,  paying  well  for  it  upon  the  con 
dition  that  the  fact  should  be  kept  a  secret,  espec 
ially  from  Le  Tosco,  the  porter.  The  manager, 
not  unused  to  liaisons,  mistook  her  motive,  and  as 


362          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

was  his  wont,  smiled  and  let  her  the  room  with 
out  questioning. 

M.  Divan  seldom  bothered  her  now,  which  gave 
her  plenty  of  time  to  occupy  this  room  and  listen 
to  all  that  passed  therein.  If  Durand  had  a  visitor, 
she  kept  watch  and  noiselessly  entered  the  room, 
where  she  heard  all  that  was  said.  This  thing  hap 
pened  when  Best  and  Graham  called  upon  him.  She 
heard  the  quarrel  and  the  blow  of  Graham's  that 
felled  his  adversary.  She  heard  Durand's  decla 
ration  to  kill  Graham.  She  was  ready  to  shriek  as 
the  voice  of  Best  sounded  its  mandatory  warning 
and  command  to  Durand  to  drop  his  weapon. 

As  the  details  of  the  duel  were  arranged,  she 
hoped  in  this  duel  Durand  might  be  killed.  It 
would  be  a  handy  exit  for  him,  and  no  one  would 
regret  it.  Such  was  her  hatred  for  the  man  who 
had  rejected  her  love  and  told  her  she  was  rejected 
for  another  he  hoped  to  win,  but  whom  she  felt  he 
could  not  with  this  young  man  as  a  rival,  this  young 
man  whom  she  knew  not,  but  whose  voice  possessed 
candor  and  resolution.  This  latter  trait  was  the 
one  she  had  admired  in  Durand  formerly,  but  now 
she  saw  it  warped  and  made  to  weaken  by  the  con 
tinued  evil  which  it  tried  to  force.  After  Graham 
and  Best  left,  she  heard  him  summon  Le  Tosco,  and 
after  that  worthy's  appearance,  she  heard  the  das 
tardly  plot  planned,  that  of  poisoning  the  bullets 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          363 

by  soaking  them  in  the  poison  of  the  fer-de-lance, 
and  also  having  Le  Tosco  secrete  himself  in  the 
bush  at  the  wayside  close  to  the  place  where  the 
duelists  would  meet. 

Durand  himself  was  to  make  the  entire  distance 
that  evening,  and  ascertain  the  exact  midway  place 
between  the  Plaza  hotel  and  Graham's  villa,  and 
mark  this  place  so  that  Le  Tosco  would  here  secrete 
himself  with  the  knowledge  that  the  two  would 
meet  near  by. 

As  to  the  poison  to  be  used,  Mademoiselle  Sara 
could  hardly  believe  her  ears.  Every  visitor  to 
the  island  is  warned  against  that  serpent  whose  bite 
is  always  fatal.  Sara  had  heard  of  many  deaths 
since  she  came  here  caused  by  the  bite  of  the 
fer-de-lance, — deaths  of  people  even  within  the 
bounds  of  the  city.  Evidently  Durand  knew  of 
this.  Aye,  he  even  knew  more  than  she  knew, 
that  the  poor,  ignorant  populace  believed  in  the  ef 
ficacy  of  this  venom  of  the  snake  as  a  charm  to 
ward  off  evil  and  disease.  Furthermore  he  knew 
that  the  killing  of  these  snakes  that  the  venom 
might  be  extracted  and  sold  commercially  was  a 
business  with  some,  and  that  this  venom  in  small 
vials  was  for  sale  at  the  shops  of  the  apothecaries, 
who  were  able  to  do  quite  a  trade  in  this  commod 
ity,  making  thereby  no  small  profit,  for  who  would 
not  stand  the  extortion  in  buying  such  a  priceless 
charm  ? 


364          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Lest  she  had  not  heard  aright,  she  watched  Le 
Tosco  leave  the  hotel.  She  followed  and  saw  him 
enter  an  apothecary's  shop.  She  waited  until  he 
came  out  and  was  a  little  distance  away,  then  she 
entered,  and  having  made  some  trifling  purchases, 
asked  if  the  man  who  had  just  left  did  not  buy  some 
of  the  venom  of  the  fer-de-lance.  He  had. 

Going  back,  she  sat  down  and  thought  it  over. 
She  must,  she  would,  prevent  this  horrible  death 
that  awaited  Graham  should  he  be  wounded,  even 
slightly,  by  Le  Tosco  whom  Durand  had  hired  to 
treacherously  shoot  at  the  count  of  two.  How 
would  she  do  it?  She  knew  all  that  had  been 
planned  by  Durand  and  so  was  mistress  of  the 
situation.  Yet  what  would  she  do  ?  At  last  it  came 
to  her.  She  would  attend  the  duel.  She  would  be 
there  just  as  the  contestants  were  taking  their 
places.  She  would  denounce  Durand  and  reveal 
the  plot.  As  a  proof — she  would  have  them  beat 
about  and  reveal  Le  Tosco  in  his  hiding-place.  It 
would  be  a  part  of  her  revenge.  Graham  could 
take  what  retaliation  upon  Durand  he  saw  fit.  At 
least  she  would  have  partial  revenge  then;  the 
balance  would  come  later. 

For  Le  Tosco,  at  least,  it  was  unfortunate  that 
she  had  not  arrived  on  the  scene  of  the  duel  a  bit 
earlier.  She  knew  all  the  details  and  thought  to 
follow  Durand.  This  she  did.  but  he  had  the  start 
and  she  failed  to  overtake  him. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          365 

As  it  was,  when  she  arrived,  she  was  pleased  that 
Le  Tosco  and  not  Graham  was  injured,  that  the 
poisoned  bullet  had  acted  as  a  boomerang  and  hit 
one  of  the  plotters.  As  Durand  faced  her,  she  de 
nounced  him  as  a  liar  in  his  assertion  that  Le  Tosco 
had  spoken  untruthfully  about  being  hired  to  kill 
Graham  with  a  poisoned  bullet. 

His  face  grew  pale.  "  You  here,"  he  said  con 
fusedly.  "  Why  do  you  deny  my  words?  " 

The  answer  came  back  at  once,  "  Because  I  want 
every  one  to  know  what  a  villain  you  are;  I  want 
them  to  know  I  overheard  you  and  this  Le  Tosco 
here,"  pointing  to  the  prostrate  man  in  the  road, 
"  plotting  this  scheme  which  now  through  fear 
he  reveals." 

"  A  jealous  woman,"  said  Durand,  as  he  snapped 
his  fingers  at  her. 

This  enraged  her.  "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  a  jealous 
woman,  but  one  more  honest  and  gracious  than 
you." 

"  Indeed,  a  mistress  to  other  men,  one  who  has 
importuned  me  as  Potiphar's  wife  importuned  the 
youthful  Joseph,  in  the  Bible  story." 

"  It  is  a  lie,"  she  said,  her  voice  loud  and  ex 
cited.  "  The  reverse  is  true.  I  would  come  to  yQU 
only  as  your  wife.  For  that  reason  you  cast  me 
aside." 

"  Cease   this   wrangle,"    spoke   Graham.      "  We 


366         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

care  not  to  witness  the  laundering  of  dirty 
linen." 

She  turned  upon  Graham :  "  You  know  but  little 
of  this  man.  He's  a  robber.  By  his  orders  and  a 
liberal  use  of  money  he  had  a  child  kidnapped  years 
ago." 

"  Yes,"  said  Graham,  "  but  how  do  you  know 
this?" 

She  did  not  hesitate  to  say,  "  I  needed  the 
money.  I  did  the  job  for  him.  Now  he  would 
cast  me  aside.  Now  he  thinks  he  loves  a  convent 
girl." 

"  Do  you  know  the  name  of  the  convent  girl  ?  " 
suddenly  asked  Graham. 

"  No." 

"  Her  name  is  Olive  James." 

"Is  she, — the — the  same  one?"  She  laughed 
hoarsely  in  Durand's  face.  "  And  you  would  steal 
her  twice?  " 

At  this  reference  to  his  recent  attempt  to  ab 
duct  Olive,  Durand  retorted,  "  Strumpet,  mistress, 
you." 

"  Durand,"  said  Graham,  "  you  undertook  to 
steal  Olive  a  few  days  ago.  Now  you  have  tried 
to  murder  me,  and  by  a  method  both  fiendish  and 
cruel.  In  both  these  attempts  you  were  frustrated. 
I  warn  you  not  to  attempt  anything  further  in  this 
line.  I  also  give  you  fair  warning  that  I  am  not 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          367 

through  with  you  yet.  Your  offences  shall  not  go 
unpunished.  I  had  in  mind  first  to  kill  you,  but 
later  decided  to  wound  you  as  the  accuracy  of  my 
shot  must  prove,  for  I  hit  you  just  where  I  in 
tended,  and  disarmed  you.  I  spared  you  that  I 
might  work  out  your  punishment  in  a  humane  way, 
and  as  the  law  prescribes.  To  this  law  I  shall  ap 
peal  at  once." 

"And  if  the  law  fails?"  insolently  asked  Du- 
rand. 

"  Then  God  will  punish  you.  Crimes  of  the 
enormity  of  yours  shall  not  go  unpunished.  This 
man  whom  you  wounded  will  be  cared  for  by  your 
surgeon.  The  tourniquet  has  probably  saved  his 
life." 

Durand  again  sneered  at  Graham  and  withdrew, 
calling  out  as  he  did  so  to  the  surgeon,  "  When 
you  get  the  nigger  fixed  up,  come  and  attend  to  my 
hand." 

Mademoiselle  Sara  offered  to  take  Le  Tosco  home 
and  he  was  assisted  to  her  carriage.  The  surgeon 
also  climbed  in  and  they  followed  Durand  to  the 
city,  while  Graham  and  Best  made  their  way  home 
in  the  opposite  direction. 

'  You  only  winged  him,  Harold,"  said  Best  as 
they  drove  along.  "  Yet  he  will  retaliate  if  you 
are  not  watchful.  Implore  the  aid  of  the  law  at 
once." 

"  I  will,"  was  the  answer. 


368          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

GRAHAM  and  Best  entered  the  city  again  that 
day.  Their  visit  was  made  for  two  objective 
reasons.  First,  Graham  would  see  the  United 
States  consul,  a  Mr.  Penticost,  and  with  him  try 
and  arrange  for  Durand's  arrest  on  charge  of  kid 
napping  and  embezzlement.  Second,  he  had  not 
seen  Olive  since  the  day  before  and  he  had  much  to 
tell  her.  The  duel  had  taken  place  and  of  course 
she  was  in  ignorance  of  it  or  its  outcome,  and  he 
would  warn  her  to  keep  well  inside  the  convent 
unless  he  was  near  by.  He,  however,  believed  that 
Durand  was  somewhat  cowed,  and  perhaps  would 
attempt  nothing  further  toward  Olive  at  present, 
yet  he  was  not  so  sure  regarding  Durand's  attitude 
toward  him.  He  felt  adequate  to  handle  that  end 
of  it,  and  he  gave  this  little  thought.  But  Olive 
should  be  warned. 

He  had  secured  the  Abbess's  consent  that  his 
meetings  with  Olive  should  continue.  Really  the 
Abbess  saw  no  other  way  out  of  it.  She  realized 
the  happy  couple  would  desire  to  meet.  There  was 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          369 

no  way  of  meeting,  she  knew,  unless  they  continued 
to  drive.  Certainly  Graham  could  not  come  to  the 
convent  and  see  Olive.  She  knew  Graham  to  be 
honest  and  good.  She  would  help  them. 

The  Abbess  herself  that  day  had  seen  the  old  man 
Francisco  and  bade  him  go  to  a  locksmith  and  get 
a  duplicate  key  made  from  the  one  he  carried.  The 
old  man,  fearful  and  wondering  what  she  could 
want  with  the  duplicate,  complied.  This  key  the 
Abbess  gave  to  Olive  and  warned  her  to  be  most 
discreet  in  the  way  she  emerged  from  or  entered 
the  convent  when  going  to  meet  her  lover. 

On  the  way  into  the  city,  at  a  turn  in  the  road, 
they  sighted  Mt.  Pelee  with  the  city  of  St.  Pierre 
at  its  feet, — St.  Pierre,  the  beautiful,  the  city 
of  beautiful  gardens  and  southern  foliage,  and 
withal  the  city  of  wickedness  and  the  head  of  the 
Satanists. 

"  Look,  look,"  said  Best,  as  he  caught  Graham's 
arm.  "  Look  at  old  Pelee." 

Graham  raised  his  eyes  and  beheld  Mount  Pelee, 
or  really  a  portion  of  it,  for  the  upper  half  was 
submerged  in  smoke,  black  and  dense,  clinging  to 
it  like  an  enshrouding  pall.  Just  then  a  breeze 
brought  to  them  the  odor  of  sulphurous  gases. 
"  Pelee  is  again  active,"  said  Best.  "  Yet  how  can 
it  be,  for  the  old  crater  is  a  deep  lake?  " 

"  Some  new  crack  perhaps,  or  a  new  crater." 
24 


370          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Then  for  the  first  time  they  noticed  the  air 
contained  very  fine  particles  of  dust. 

"  Ashes,"  said  Best  as  he  flicked  some  off  his 
coat-sleeve.  "  Ashes  surely  and  from  Pelee.  This 
promises  to  be  interesting." 

As  they  looked  they  saw  small  streaks  of  light 
ning  playing  in  and  out  through  the  dense  smoke 
they  had  observed  on  Pelee's  summit.  They  passed 
natives  who  in  awe  and  wonderment  looked  toward 
the  mountains.  Some  looked  in  open-mouthed  won 
derment,  and  did  not  see  them  as  they  passed. 
Here  and  there  a  native  stood  and  crossed  himself 
as  his  lips  moved  in  prayer.  Others  knelt  by  a 
roadside  shrine  of  which  there  are  many  in  this 
Catholic  country, — just  and  noble  reminders  of  the 
good  and  sacrificing  Jesuits  who  carried  the  tidings 
of  a  risen  Lord  into  every  clime,  worthy  examples 
which  if  emulated  might  have  had  a  benign  effect 
on  the  wicked  populace  and  changed  a  Sodom  into 
Eden.  Those  engaged  in  prayer  at  the  shrines 
mumbled  incoherent  words  of  mingled  fear  and  pe 
titions  for  mercy  as  they  passed  them.  On  the  out 
skirts  of  the  city,  Best  alighted,  and  purchasing  the 
Petit  Journal  read  of  the  developments  in  Pelee 
affairs,  read  that  the  lake  had  disappeared,  at  least 
so  an  adventurous  scientific  explorer,  whose  courage 
and  desire  for  facts  led  him  up  the  mountain,  stated. 

The  River  Roxelane,  having  its  source  in  Mt. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          371 

Pelee,  a  small  stream  that  ran  through  a  portion 
of  the  city,  was  running  mud  instead  of  water,  evi 
dences  of  seismic  disturbance.  The  paper  cautioned 
the  populace  against  excitement,  counselling  the 
excitable  to  keep  cool,  and  explaining  that  no  reason 
as  yet  was  apparent  for  an  exodus  from  the  city. 
The  article  further  stated  that  undoubtedly  a  little 
later  the  smoke  would  be  accompanied  by  flames 
from  the  crater's  mouth,  and  that  even  this  should 
not  alarm  or  disturb  the  people. 

"  Rather  too  rosy  a  view,"  said  Best,  as  he  fin 
ished  reading  aloud  the  article. 

"  I  know  little  of  volcanoes,"  replied  Graham, 
"  although  for  a  number  of  years  I  have  lived  in 
the  shadow  of  Pelee,  yet  I  hope  these  inhabitants 
will  not  stay  in  this  city,  as  did  those  of  Pompeii, 
until  too  late  to  escape  an  awful  death.  I  deplore 
the  reason  that  prompts  a  paper  in  advising  none 
to  leave.  Commercialism  is  their  only  reason  for 
doing  this." 

These  strong  gases  became  more  oppressive  as 
they  entered  the  city,  and  thus  came  nearer  the  vol 
cano.  Occasionally  smoke  came  down  upon  the  part 
of  the  town  nearest  the  mountain,  leaving  a  gray 
coat  in  its  wake. 

Graham  and  Best  were  not  altogether  at  ease 
concerning  Mt.  Pelee's  latest  move.  They  recalled 
now  the  strong  sulphurous  odors  that  they  ob- 


372          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

served  the  day  they  were  up  Pelee's  side.  They  felt 
now  that  the  slight  disturbance  accountable  for 
this  was  but  the  forerunner  of  the  present  con 
dition,  and  they  feared  that  even  more  violent  dis 
turbances  would  follow.  Volcanoes  seldom  have 
preliminaries  without  a  convulsion  following. 

Their  fear  did  not  divert  them  from  their  mis 
sion.  Far  from  it.  Graham  had  a  debt  to  pay 
his  dead  father,  to  fulfil  his  promise.  Besides  a 
certain  obligation  to  a  little  god,  to  whose  equip 
ment  of  a  quiver  and  a  bow  Best  had  added  a 
kite  and  a  ladder,  had  to  be  attended  to.  The  lat 
ter  could  wait  just  a  little  while.  He  would  see 
the  consul  first. 

The  city  was  built  on  a  series  of  elevations,  one 
slightly  above  the  other.  The  southern  and 
higher  part  of  the  town  was  the  better  part,  that 
is,  the  part  wherein  lived  the  most  wealthy.  The 
residence  of  the  American  consul  was  here  situ 
ated,  and  from  this  place  he  transacted  the  affairs 
of  state  that  came  under  his  jurisdiction.  Toward 
this  place  they  drove.  On  reaching  it,  Graham 
alighted  and  leaving  Best  without  the  house,  passed 
to  the  door  of  the  legation,  where  his  ring  at  the 
door  was  answered  by  a  servant.  His  card  was  pre 
sented  and  a  moment  later  he  was  informed  that  the 
American  minister,  Mr.  Penticost,  was  in  and  would 
see  Mr.  Graham  at  once. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          373 

They  had  met  before  at  one  or  two  social  func 
tions,  to  which  the  few  American  people  of  the  is 
land  were  invited,  but  Graham  was  too  intent  on 
sugar-raising  to  pay  much  attention  to  dignitaries, 
even  though  they  were  Americans,  and  so  they  were 
not  on  over-intimate  terms. 

Graham  entered  the  business  office  of  the  con 
sul,  and  after  short  formalities  gave  the  reason  for 
his  visit,  going  to  the  core  of  the  matter  at  once, 
announcing  that  circumstances  were  opportune,  lest 
the  man,  Durand,  make  good  his  escape.  He  ex 
plained  he  was  looking  for  information  as  to  how 
to  proceed,  the  legal  process  in  line  with  this  action 
he  did  not  understand.  He  would  furnish  proof 
of  what  he  said.  He  could  offer  the  evidence  of 
the  cliild  who  was  robbed  and  stolen.  He  could, 
he  thought,  bring  forth  the  woman  who  did  the  kid 
napping  at  the  instigation  of  Durand.  She  was 
here  in  St.  Pierre  and  evidently  had  lost  her  in 
fluence  with  her  former  master.  So  he  went  on, 
forgetting  no  detail  that  had  a  bearing  on  the  case, 
eloquently  telling  the  story  as  a  fulfilment  of  a 
promise  to  a  dead  father. 

What  would  the  American  consul  advise?  How 
should  he  proceed? 

The  consul  sat  and  listened  eagerly,  listened  as 
one  might  listen  to  a  tale  that  was  simple  and  yet 
deeply  absorbing.  In  his  official  duties  he  came 


374          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

across  many  peculiar  tales  from  those  who  courted 
his  assistance,  tales  that  for  the  most  part  were 
exaggerated,  and  told  with  the  end  in  view  of 
gaining  assistance,  both  financially  and  socially. 
Yet  here  was  one  far  out  of  the  usual  line.  No 
thought  of  doubt  entered  the  consul's  mind.  He 
believed  the  young  man  before  him  told  the  truth. 
His  fifty  years'  experience  with  men  and  their  arts 
had  taught  him  to  search  out  and  separate  the 
true  from  the  false.  His  face,  grave  and  noble, 
showed  even  some  agitation  as  he  listened  to  the 
story  of  a  man's  wrong-doing  and  an  innocent 
girl's  peril.  Yes,  he  would  assist,  so  he  asked  his 
first  question. 

"  The  proof,  you  say,  can  be  relied  upon  as  di 
rect  and  convincing;  no  doubt  as  to  establishing 
the  identity  of  this  Durand  or  the  girl,  Olive 
James?  " 

"  No,  for  Durand  in  my  presence  and  the  pres 
ence  of  others  admitted  his  identity.  And  as  to 
the  young  lady,  the  Abbess  at  St.  Mary's  Convent 
can  vouch  for  her  identity.  The  case  is  clear." 

"  Very  well,  I  will  apply  to  the  French  authori 
ties  here  for  permission  to  arrest  the  man  at  once. 
You  will  make  the  complaint,  of  course,  upon  which 
he  will  be  arrested." 

At  this,  he  took  some  papers  from  his  desk  and 
got  out  pen  and  ink.  The  complaint  was  being 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          375 

made  out  when  Consul  Penticost  said :  "  About 
how  long  ago  was  this  offence  committed  in  New 
York?" 

"  Some  fifteen  years  ago." 

The  Consul  sat  back  and  whistled  softly.  "  That 
makes  a  difference.  The  man  is  not  amenable  to 
the  law  for  this  crime  now." 

"  What  ?  "  asked  the  astonished  Graham.  "  Not 
amenable  now?  Why  not?" 

"  In  New  York  crimes  of  this  nature  outlaw  in 
five  years." 

"  He  must  know  this,"  said  Graham,  "  for  he 
seemed  not  in  the  least  perturbed  when  I  threat 
ened  him  with  the  law  this  morning." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other.     "  He  probably  knows." 

"  Cannot  he  be  arrested  just  the  same,  and  thus 
rid  the  young  lady  of  his  menacing  presence?  " 

"  Useless,"  said  Mr.  Penticost,  "  for  he  would 
speedily  be  back  here  did  he  so  choose,  as  a  habeas 
corpus  proceeding  under  the  circumstances  would 
readily  free  him.  No,  young  man,  it  seems  to  me 
that  if  he  is  ever  brought  to  justice  for  this  offence, 
some  other  way  will  have  to  be  found." 

Graham  was  greatly  disappointed.  He  had 
longed  for  the  time  when  retribution  by  the  way  of 
the  law  would  be  Durand's  portion.  He  had  more 
than  a  passing  interest  in  it.  Not  alone  his  promise 
to  his  father  or  the  cause  of  Olive,  but  all  just  men, 


376         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

however  brave,  fear  other  men  who  are  lawless. 
He  feared  lest  by  some  underhanded  method  and 
cunning  or  stealthy  way  he  or  Olive  would  feel  his 
hand.  Yet,  even  now  he  was  to  go  scot  free  to 
work  more  injury  to  the  innocent  perhaps,  or  to 
kill  some  one  with  poisoned  bullets.  The  consul 
noted  the  great  agitation  in  his  face;  saw  that 
thwarted  look  that  came  over  his  features.  He 
ventured  to  make  an  inquiry. 

''  You  desire  this  man's  arrest  at  this  time,  do 
you  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  not  through  vindictiveness.  He 
wronged  my  father;  he  wronged  the  girl,  and  I 
would  that  he  be  punished  for  it,  but  if  the  lapse 
of  time  has  made  him  safe  from  the  law,  then 
justice  can  only  come  to  him  by  the  hand  of  God, 
as  I  told  him  this  morning." 

"  But  of  the  girl,  mayhap  you  have  more  than 
a  passing  interest  in  her  and  fear  this  man's  in 
fluence  or  interference?" 

Graham  saw  what  he  was  after  and  promptly  said, 
"  She  is  my  promised  bride,  and  I  do  fear  this  man 
may  work  her  harm.  A  short  time  ago,  he  tried 
again  to  abduct  her.  In  fact  he  did  this,  and  only 
for  the  interference  of  a  true  friend  of  mine,  who 
is  outside,  he  would  have  succeeded.  My  friend 
disabled  one  of  his  horses  and  followed  him,  and 
finally  rescued  the  girl.  This  morning  he  and  I 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          377 

fought  a  duel  on  his  invitation.  I  wounded  him 
slightly,  while  a  wild  shot  of  his  hit  a  native  in  am 
bush,  whom  he  had  hidden  there  with  instructions 
to  kill  me  before  I  could  fire.  The  native's  pistol 
missed  fire,  else  I  would  have  been  dead  ere  this 
and  from  a  poisoned  bullet,  as  this  native  afterward 
confessed." 

"  Poisoned  bullets, — that  sounds  like  a  tale  of  the 
western  plains  of  America." 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  poisoned  with  the  venom  of  the 
fer-de-lance  too." 

"  Well,  I  do  not  blame  you  for  wanting  this  man 
taken  care  of.  But  if  he  knows  that  by  the  statute 
of  limitations  his  crime  has  outlawed,  why  does 
he  seek  your  life?  " 

"  Ah,"  said  Graham.  "  I  had  not  told  you  he 
loves  this  girl,  or  at  least  he  so  claims  to  her  guard 
ian,  the  Abbess." 

"  Loves  her  after  having  wronged  her  as  he  did  ? 
There  is  something  in  this  that  tells  me  he  shall 
find  his  deserts  here.  The  very  idea  that  he  loves 
this  girl  shows  plainly  that  the  worm  is  turning. 
This  process  may  be  slow  but  will  be  effectual." 
Then  he  looked  at  Graham  sharply.  "  I  have  an 
idea.  While  he  cannot  be  dealt  with  for  the  old 
offences,  you  said  he  undertook  the  abduction  of  this 
girl  recently.  Then  why  not  have  him  arrested 
for  this  offence?  French  law  processes  are  very 


378          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

slow.  He  would  be  in  prison  for  at  least  a  month 
before  being  given  a  hearing  or  a  chance  to  give 
bail.  In  the  meantime,  my  young  man,  I  would 
advise  that  you  marry  the  girl,  and  then  only  can 
you  feel  reasonably  assured  of  a  degree  of  safety 
for  her.  This  man  seems  to  be  a  great  villain,  and 
I  would  move  at  once  against  him." 

"  But,  if  it  could  be  arranged,  I  would  rather 
Olive's  name  did  not  appear  in  the  matter.  She 
is  a  very  modest  girl,  and  naturally  would  shrink 
from  a  court-room." 

"  Your  friend  outside  saw  the  attempt  at  abduc 
tion  you  told  me  about.  Then  his  word  as  a  wit 
ness  is  all  that  is  desired.  The  young  woman  will 
not  be  brought  into  it  at  all." 

Best  was  summoned  and  the  consul  took  his  affi 
davit,  together  with  Graham's,  as  to  what  had  tran 
spired,  promising  that  he  would  do  the  rest;  he 
would  see  the  proper  authorities  and  acquaint  them 
with  the  facts  and  see  that  Durand  was  at  once  ar 
rested  and  incarcerated. 

They  talked  of  the  latest  action  of  Mount  Pelee 
for  a  moment,  and  started  to  withdraw,  but  as  they 
passed  out,  the  building  under  their  feet  shook 
quite  perceptibly,  and  a  dull  roar  was  heard  that 
seemed  to  come  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 

"  Pelee  is  growling  inwardly,"  said  Best. 

Outside,  the  populace  did  not  look  on  this  latest 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          379 

action  of  the  earth  with  the  same  equanimity  of 
feeling  as  did  Best.  Ignorance  and  superstition 
are  twin  brothers,  born  of  darkness,  and  nowhere 
more  rampant  than  in  this  southern  isle  of  the  sea, 
and  so  this  people's  ignorance  accounted  for  their 
great  fear  and  they,  men  and  women,  rushed  from 
their  low,  stucco  houses. 

Our  friends,  as  they  came  into  the  more  thickly 
populated  part  of  the  city,  met  many  natives  decked 
perhaps  scantily,  showing  they  had  been  dressing 
at  the  time.  Others  came  fully  dressed,  bearing 
some  cherished  treasure.  One  girl  held  in  her  hand 
a  corset,  another  a  pair  of  shoes,  while  a  third 
seemed  contented  that  she  was  permitted  to  take 
with  her  her  only  article  that  contributed  to  the 
making  of  her  toilet,  a  tooth-brush.  They  lined  the 
streets,  their  faces  blank  and  fearsome,  their  eyes 
large  and  white,  fairly  starting  from  their  sockets. 
Moving  among  these  natives  were  men  of  cool 
minds  and  judgment  who  were  advising  against 
an  exodus  from  the  city.  A  few,  however,  could 
not  be  quieted,  but  the  greater  part  finally  re- 
entered  their  homes. 

It  was  near  nightfall  as  our  friends  drew  up 
at  the  Plaza,  where  the  occupants  had  concluded 
to  dine,  and  where  Best  would  finally  await  the 
other's  return  ere  they  went  home.  They  expected 
to  encounter  Durand  here  and  cared  not  if  they 


380          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

did,  hoping  their  presence  might  awe  him  further 
than  had  the  marksmanship  of  each,  as  he  had  con 
clusively  evidenced.  Nor  were  they  disappointed. 

The  dining-room  of  the  Plaza  was  a  most  elabo 
rate  affair,  if  floral  decorations  counted.  As  most 
of  its  guests  were  foreigners,  the  manager  had  felt 
it  wise  that  these  be  allowed  to  feast  their  eyes 
upon  beauteous  orchids. 

Through  the  bowers  of  flowers  moved  the  wait 
resses,  fairest  of  Martinique's  daughters,  tall  of  form 
and  lithe  of  body,  whose  faces  belied  not  the 
French  blood  that  flowed  through  their  veins. 

Tables,  about  which  were  seated  lovely  women 
and  men  in  evening  dress,  lent  a  charm  to  the  scene. 
These  diners  for  the  most  part  were  followers  of 
a  strange,  freakish  religion,  and  who  loved  to  call 
one  another  by  that  name  that  to  most  people  would 
have  been  a  synonym  for  fiendishness,  Satanist. 
But  Graham  and  Best  knew  not  of  their  identity. 

Mademoiselle  Sara,  most  radiantly  attired,  was 
there,  and  of  course  they  recognized  her.  Sur 
rounded  by  her  friends  she  was  the  center  of  at 
traction, — they  anxious  to  pay  homage  to  a  celeb 
rity  of  their  order.  Durand  too  was  present.  He 
dined  sullenly  by  himself.  It  was  noticed  that  his 
hand  was  bandaged,  and  that  this  interfered  with 
its  free  using  in  handling  his  food.  He  glowered 
upon  his  adversaries  of  the  morning,  and  did  not  re- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          381 

turn  Best's  taunting  nod.  He  ate  little,  and  after 
seeing  Graham  seemed  lost  in  thought.  He  hur 
ried  through  and  passed  out,  giving  them  a  con 
temptuous  look  as  he  went  close  to  their  table. 

"  Will  he  be  arrested  to-night  ?  "  asked  Best. 

"  I  hope  so,  but  probably  not.  Considerable  red 
tape  has  to  be  complied  with  first.  In  the  morning, 
however,  it  will  come." 

But  they  knew  not  of  a  new  plot,  a  new  scheme 
of  revenge  he  had  hatched,  while  he  looked  upon 
them,  and  which  he  would  proceed  to  execute  before 
the  night  was  much  older. 


382         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

DURAND  had  never  doubted  from  the  first  but 
that  he  would  possess  Olive.  Certain  difficulties 
had  arisen  and  he  would  be  obliged  to  wait  until 
they  were  overcome,  then  he  could  go  ahead.  Gra 
ham,  he  considered  as  one  of  these  obstacles.  He 
must  be  overcome.  Durand  had  for  some  time 
wondered  who  that  hard-fisted  young  man  was 
whom  he  had  twice  encountered  as  he  sought  Olive. 
At  any  rate,  he  knew  him  to  be  a  rival  suitor  and 
an  aggressive  one  at  that,  with  a  friend  who  was 
always  close  at  hand,  and  whose  able  assistance 
could  be  relied  upon. 

After  his  attempted  abduction  of  Olive,  he 
thought  it  best  to  find  out  his  opponents,  and  if 
possible  first  conquer  them.  They  called  on  him 
and  made  this  easy.  He  appreciated  this,  but  he 
was  much  surprised  to  learn  that  one  of  the  young 
men,  the  one  he  considered  his  rival,  was  none 
other  than  the  son  of  his  old-time  employer,  and 
in  whose  interest  the  father  had  reluctantly  con 
sented  to  maintain  silence  while  he  pilfered  the 
coffers  of  the  funds  he  held  in  trust.  He  laughed 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          383 

as  he  reviewed  this.  It  was  only  when  in  a  rem 
iniscent  mood  and  as  he  thought  of  the  little  tricks 
by  which  he  had  been  benefited  that  he  allowed 
himself  to  smile. 

During  the  call  of  Graham  and  his  friend  upon 
him,  he  felt  that  he  must  in  some  way  rid  himself 
of  this  young  man's  presence,  for  he  well  knew 
that  Graham  would  attempt  to  bring  him  to  justice 
on  the  old  score.  He  would  harass  Graham  pur 
posely.  First,  however,  he  would  try  that  same 
measure  that  villains  always  try,  that  of  a  compro 
mise.  He  would  try  to  bribe  him  to  keep  silence. 
He  would  give  him  a  slice  of  the  estate  as  the 
price  of  silence.  If  this  failed  he  would  provoke 
a  duel,  and  he  would  take  precious  care  that  no  harm 
came  to  himself.  He  would  employ  outside  forces 
to  assist  him. 

The  offer  of  a  compromise  was  rejected  with 
more  violence  than  he  bargained  for,  and  he  would 
have  killed  Graham  then  and  there  had  not  Best 
interfered.  Then  he  provoked  Graham  further  by 
claiming  that  his  father  had  shared  in  the  spoils. 
He  knew  he  had  said  the  right  thing,  and  at  once 
pushed  matters  toward  the  duel. 

But  he  did  not  like  the  duel's  ending.  That 
idiot  Le  Tosco  had  undoubtedly  soaked  the  bullets 
in  the  poison  too  long  and  thus  made  some  of  them 
worthless,  yet  the  one  that  did  not  miss  fire  was 


384          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  one  from  his  own  pistol  that  found  a  lodging 
place  in  Le  Tosco's  leg.  A  bungling  job  at  the  best 
had  Le  Tosco  made  of  it,  and  Durand  was  not 
sorry  that  he  had  been  hit.  He  had  no  one  to  blame 
but  himself  and  Durand  cared  so  little  that  he  had 
not  even  made  inquiry  concerning  him.  What  he 
was  most  concerned  about  was  that  the  plot  had 
failed.  He  was  anxious  that  another  one  might  be 
launched  and  successfully  ended. 

Notwithstanding  Graham's  warnings,  which,  by 
the  way,  Graham  had  hoped  would  prove  efficacious, 
Durand  yet  treasured  thoughts  of  revenge,  aye, 
even  more  serious  now  than  before  the  wound  to  his 
hand  was  administered.  When  he  saw  his  enemies 
dining  at  the  Plaza,  even  before  they  saw  him, 
he  had  set  his  most  fiendish  deliberations  to  work. 

Here  now  was  his  chance.  He  would  take  no 
partners  this  time.  Alone  would  he  kill  this  man 
Graham.  He  knew  that  Graham  would  in  all  proba 
bility  meet  Olive,  and  that  they,  in  spite  of  the  fall 
ing  ashes  and  the  earthquake,  would  take  a  drive 
about  the  city.  He  knew  this  not  from  conjecture 
alone,  but  from  certain  circumstances  that  had  come 
to  his  knowledge.  After  sending  the  anonymous 
letter  to  the  Abbess,  he  had  set  Le  Tosco  to  watch 
over  the  convent  and  mark  developments.  It  hap 
pened  that  Le  Tosco  was  only  on  duty  in  the  even 
ing  at  the  Plaza,  or  from  twelve  o'clock  at  noon 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          385 

until  twelve  midnight.  So  that  the  day  the 
note  to  the  Abbess  was  delivered,  that  worthy  re 
ported  that  a  young  man  had  just  entered  the  con 
vent.  Le  Tosco's  description  of  his  size  and  bear 
ing  tallied  with  that  of  Graham.  So  he  doubted 
not  that  the  Abbess  knew  of  Olive's  meetings  with 
him.  He  even  thought  perhaps  she  favored  this 
young  man  as  Olive's  suitor,  and  for  that  reason 
had  refused  him  what  he  asked.  Knowing  then 
that  his  enemy  would  go  home  later,  he  went  to 
his  room  and  carefully  laid  plans. 

An  hour  and  a  half  after  this  he  ordered  his  car 
riage  to  be  brought  to  the  door,  went  down,  and 
entering  it  started  away  alone.  Wandering  about 
the  crooked  streets  of  the  city,  he  at  last  drove  out 
along  the  St.  Pierre  road.  Coming  to  the  place 
where  the  duel  of  the  morning  was  fought,  he 
turned  from  the  road  and  halted  near  this  spot. 
Hastily  alighting,  as  if  he  would  accomplish  it 
before  any  one  passed,  he  took  both  lamps  from 
the  carriage  and  extinguished  the  lights.  The  night 
was  very  dark,  as  was  usual  here  when  the  moon 
did  not  shine.  It  suited  his  purpose,  this  darkness, 
for  he  did  not  wish  to  be  seen.  He  was  far  enough 
from  the  roadway  so  that  the  lights  from  the  pass 
ing  carriages  would  not  make  visible  his  presence. 

Taking  from  his  pocket  his  pistol  he  threw  it  on 
the   seat,   and   then   climbed   in   himself.      He  was 
looking  for  a  rig  with  two  occupants. 
25 


386          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  hour  was  late,  and  he  was  certain  that  if 
one  thus  laden  should  appear  it  would  surely  be  the 
one  of  his  enemies. 

Ten  to  fifteen  minutes  elapsed  before  he  heard 
the  on-coming  of  a  fast  approaching  wagon.  It  is 
said  that  Caesar's  hesitancy  before  crossing  the 
boundary  river  of  his  province  was  by  reason  of 
quakings  for  the  result.  Not  so  with  Durand.  No 
palpitation,  no  nervousness.  His  left  hand  could 
not  be  relied  upon,  as  the  morning  had  proven,  and 
he  only  wondered  if  the  bandages  on  his  right 
would  interfere  with  his  aim. 

The  wagon  came  nearer.  The  bend  of  the  road 
caused  the  sweep  of  the  light  from  the  lamps  to 
circle  in  the  opposite  side.  He  was  ready. 

He  cocked  the  pistol  with  his  left,  and  placed  it 
in  his  right  hand.  Those  he  took  to  be  his  enemies 
came  even  with  him  and  passed  on.  They  had 
scarcely  passed  a  dozen  yards  when  a  pistol  shot 
rang  out  on  the  night  air. 

When  the  others  had  gone  by,  the  glow  from 
their  carriage  lamp  made  a  circle  of  light  which 
cast  its  rays  ahead  and  not  behind.  One  looking 
into  this  light  from  behind  as  Durand  did,  saw 
plainly  the  outlines  of  the  two  passengers  in  relief 
against  this  light. 

Durand,  being  able  to  see  well,  aimed  at  the  man 
seated  at  the  right,  at  the  driver.  By  the  same 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          387 

light  he  saw  this  one  pitch  forward  as  his  shot  rang 
out. 

"  Damn  you,  I  got  you  this  time,"  he  said,  as 
he  started  his  horses  homeward,  not  daring  to  re 
light  the  lamps  until  well  on  the  way.  His  thoughts 
ran  like  this.  "If  Graham  is  dead  no  suspicion  can 
be  cast  on  me.  Upon  whom,  then,  unless  upon  this 
Best,  can  suspicion  fall?  Alone  and  riding  by 
night,  a  shot  in  the  back  too.  It  would  be  plainly 
established  by  a  sharp  lawyer  that  Best  pulled  a 
pistol  at  the  other's  back  and  did  the  trick." 

Yet  Best's  actions  at  this  moment  hardly  coin 
cided  with  what  Durand,  if  he  were  suspected,  would 
try  to  prove.  He  heard  the  shot  and  saw  his  friend 
pitch  forward.  He  knew  at  once  what  had  been 
done,  aye,  and  who  had  done  it.  As  Graham 
slipped  forward  he  released  his  hold  on  the  lines, 
but  Best  caught  them  at  once.  Horses  when  guided 
are  man's  slaves,  but  when  in  motion  and  uncon 
trolled  they  become  devils.  Yet  here  was  no  time 
for  an  exhibition  of  devilish  tricks,  for  Best  dex 
terously  saved  the  day.  He  saw  that  Graham  was 
in  danger  of  falling  to  the  ground,  and  catching 
him  with  his  free  hand  he  also  saved  the  day  so 
far  as  an  upset  was  concerned.  A  wide  swerve  in 
their  tracks  was  all  he  allowed  the  horses  to  per 
form.  Taking  in  the  situation,  he  placed  a  foot  on 
either  side  of  Graham's  body,  which  by  this  time 


388          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

had  slid  to  a  position  at  his  knees,  and  hitched  along 
in  the  driver's  seat. 

Best  knew  that  a  surgeon  should  be  seen  at  once, 
but  first  the  patient  must  be  rallied,  if  alive,  and 
made  comfortable,  so  he  gave  the  horse  the  whip 
and  away  they  flew.  The  speed  was  awful.  The 
wagon  rocked  this  way  and  that  way,  leaping  and 
plunging. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  day  Pelee's  act 
ivity  alarmed  the  island's  inhabitants  thoroughly, 
and  while  these  natives  along  the  Fort  de  France 
road  were  used  to  the  presence  of  vehicles,  yet  to 
night,  as  a  team  and  wagon  with  its  two  flaming 
lights  sped  by,  hearing  the  roar  of  wheels,  the 
tramp  of  hoofs,  the  superstitious  ones  mistook  it  to 
be  a  further  demonstration  of  the  power  of  hidden 
forces,  and  rushed  from  their  homes.  Best  glanced 
from  the  corner  of  his  eye  and  saw  them  kneel  and 
pray,  and  to  this  day,  those  who  by  distance  from 
Pelee  escaped  from  the  awful  cataclysm  that  fol 
lowed  later,  declare  that  the  devil  rode  the  Fort  de 
France  road  that  night,  his  chariot  drawn  by 
racing  dragons. 

The  terrific  speed  was  only  slackened  a  little  as 
Best  sighted  the  habitation  of  the  wounded  man. 
He  drew  up,  stopped  short  and  alone  bore  the  body 
of  the  yet  unconscious  Graham  within  the  house. 
After  getting  a  light  he  summoned  the  native  serv- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          389 

ant  and  his  wife  and  together  they  carried  Gra 
ham  to  his  own  room,  where  his  wound  was  exam 
ined  and  he  was  put  to  bed.  It  was  seen  that  a 
long  abrasion  away  across  the  top  of  his  head,  a 
bloody  wound,  was  the  place  wherein  the  enemy's 
bullet  had  done  its  work.  The  bullet  had  struck  the 
skull  a  glancing  blow,  thereby  saving  his  life,  and 
had  glanced  along  over  the  scalp,  a  wound  some  six 
inches  long  and  as  deep  as  the  scalp  would  permit. 

Best's  first  thought  was,  that  the  bullet  was  pois 
oned.  No,  he  well  knew  it  was  not,  for  the  ex 
periment  of  the  morning  had  proven  the  inefficacy 
of  bullets  soaked  in  poison. 

Leaving  the  servants  to  watch  over  his  friend, 
instructing  them  how  to  care  for  him,  Best  walked 
forth  again,  entered  the  carriage,  and  sped  toward 
the  city,  in  quest  of  a  surgeon.  He  was  gone 
scarcely  an  hour,  when  he  returned,  bringing  the 
only  one  he  knew,  he  who  had  attended  the  duel 
of  the  morning. 

"  The  wound  is  not  dangerous,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  He  will  live." 

Until  nearly  morning  they  worked  over  Graham. 
At  last  their  efforts  were  rewarded.  He  opened 
his  eyes  and  inquired  what  had  happened.  Quietly 
Best  told  him  all,  and  added,  "  Your  enemy  shoots 
better  by  night  than  by  day." 

"  You  think  then  it  was  Durand  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Best,  "who  else?" 


390         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

GRAHAM  rapidly  recovered,  but  upon  the  advice 
of  the  surgeon,  remained  quiet  for  several  days. 
After  the  soreness  had  subsided,  he  was  able  to  be 
about  and  was  comfortable,  save  that  he  was  not 
permitted  to  see  Olive,  and  the  reports  of  Pelee's 
activity  disquieted  him. 

The  morning  after  his  injury,  Best  came  to  the 
convent  to  tell  Olive  of  Graham's  mishap.  A  little 
accident  on  the  return  the  previous  night  had  hap 
pened,  he  explained,  and  Olive  attributed  his  in 
jury  to  mere  accident  to  the  wagon.  Best  and  Gra 
ham  thought  it  well  to  keep  her  in  ignorance  as  to 
the  source  of  his  injury,  fearful  that  if  Durand's 
name  was  mentioned,  it  would  cause  her  undue 
worry. 

Olive  wished  to  go  to  her  lover  at  once,  but  she 
could  not  go  alone,  and  the  Abbess  of  course  could 
not  accompany  her,  so  she  was  forced  to  stay  at 
the  convent,  however,  exacting  from  Best  a  promise 
that  he  would  come  and  report  Graham's  condi 
tion  to  her  every  day.  This  Best  faithfully  did, 
carrying  back  and  forth  letters  that  breathed  of 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          391 

fervent  love  and  sympathy  on  one  side,  and  on  the 
other  fervent  love  and  regret  that  the  writer  could 
not  come  himself  as  the  messenger.  Nor  were  the 
messages  Best  brought  to  Graham  entirely  reas 
suring,  for  they  told  every  day  of  some  new  feat 
of  the  volcano  at  the  north,  told  of  more  ashes, 
more  gases,  and  earthquakes  of  which  Graham 
already  knew,  as  the  latter  were  felt  the  island 
over.  They  told  of  the  concern  and  consternation 
of  the  people.  An  exodus  from  the  town  had 
thinned  the  population  by  perhaps  one  fifth.  The 
remaining  portion  evidently  had  resolved  to  stay, 
defying  Pelee  to  do  its  worst. 

One  day  Best  came  back  from  the  city  and  re 
ported  that  draft  horses  fell  in  the  streets,  suffo 
cating  and  dying  from  the  gases  that  permeated  the 
air;  of  people  dying  likewise  or  made  mad  through 
fear.  Another  time  he  told  how  a  stream  of  mud  and 
lava  had  flowed  down  the  southeast  exposure  of 
the  mountain,  and  destroyed  plantations  and  one 
immense  sugar  refinery,  on  its  way  to  the  sea. 

Graham  was  as  apprehensive  of  Pelee  as  any 
native,  not  that  he  feared  for  himself,  for  distance 
made  his  place  secure  from  any  attempt  Pelee  might 
make  to  destroy  the  city;  but  there  was  Olive;  yes, 
and  the  Abbess  with  her  brood.  Somehow  they  all 
seemed  dear  to  him  now,  irrespective  of  color.  He 
feared  for  their  safety.  One  of  his  notes  to  Olive 


392          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

contained  a  word  to  the  Abbess,  a  word  of  advice, 
and  praying  that  she  would  quit  the  city.  He  had 
commenced  building  on  the  plantation  a  storage 
building  that  at  this  season  was  unoccupied.  The 
children  and  the  nuns  could  be  housed  there,  while 
the  Abbess  and  Olive  could  come  under  his  own 
roof.  He  cited  the  situation  as  extremely  preca 
rious.  He  hoped  the  Abbess  would  confer  with  the 
Bishop  and  arrange  to  come.  He  would  be  pleased 
if  the  Bishop  would  come  also.  Delay  might  mean 
death.  Anyway  if  Pelee  should  give  no  further 
trouble,  if  they  were  beyond  its  harmful  reach,  she 
and  the  children  would  be  benefited,  as  the  appre 
hension  they  must  feel  and  suffer  would  here  be 
alleviated. 

The  Abbess  was  most  grateful  for  the  hospitable 
offer  of  Mr.  Graham,  but  she  had  conferred  with 
the  Bishop,  who  assured  her  that  no  harm  would 
befall  them  if  they  remained,  but  the  Abbess  added, 
"  For  myself  I  can  say  that  I  should  feel  much  more 
secure  were  we  enjoying  your  offer." 

Graham  sighed  as  he  finished.  "  So  much  for 
the  judgment  and  discretion  of  the  Bishop,"  as 
he  snapped  his  fingers,  "  yet  I  suppose  the  Bishop's 
word  is  law  unto  the  Abbess  and  nuns." 

Best  each  day  brought  back  the  Petit  Journal, 
and  before  even  reading  of  the  consecutive  move 
ments  of  Pelee,  they  scanned  the  columns  each  issue 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          393 

for  a  notice  that  Durand  had  been  arrested,  but  saw 
none.  This  also  worried  the  housed-up  Graham, 
for  since  the  shot  in  the  dark  that  had  most  mirac 
ulously  avoided  killing  him,  he  hoped  for  the  ap 
prehension  of  this  man  that  all  concerned  might 
feel  safer. 

On  the  fourth  day  after  he  was  wounded  he 
bade  Best,  as  the  latter  was  making  ready  for  his 
daily  visit  to  the  city,  to  call  upon  Mr.  Penticost 
again,  and  ascertain  from  him  news  regarding  the 
case  against  Durand. 

Best  did  this,  but  the  consul  could  give  him  no 
information  further  than  the  fact  that  the  author 
ities  were  looking  into  the  standing  of  Best  and 
Graham,  the  complainants.  Later  they  would  move 
in  the  matter  he  felt  sure.  Graham  groaned  in 
spirit.  Pending  the  working  out  of  this  official 
red  tape,  the  culprit  could  leave  the  island  did  he 
so  choose. 

The  day  following,  Graham  was  much  improved. 
The  vertigo,  a  result  of  the  injury,  had  en 
tirely  left  him,  and  his  head  had  healed  to  the  ex 
tent  that  he  could  wear  the  soft  cap  Best  had 
brought  him  from  the  city  to  replace  the  one  de 
stroyed  by  Durand's  bullet.  He  felt  he  could  no 
longer  stay  away  from  Olive.  He  must  see  her. 
He  would  call  and  see  the  consul  himself,  and  from 
there  go  and  take  Olive  for  the  drive  that  had  been 


394         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

delayed  for  several  days.  He  thought  if  he  could 
see  her  and  explain  the  serious  outlook  the  out 
break  of  Pelee  had  to  him,  possibly  some  of  his 
fear  might  be  transmitted  through  her  to  the  Abbess 
and  from  the  Abbess  to  the  Bishop,  who  mayhap 
would  alter  his  mind,  and  allow  the  convent 
people  to  change  their  habitation,  if  only  for  a  few 
days,  or  until  the  activity  of  the  volcano  ceased. 
He  wished  he  might  take  Olive,  even  if  the  others 
remained  behind,  but  did  not  hope  to  do  this. 

For  a  couple  of  days  past,  violent  detonations  of 
thunder  had  shaken  the  foundations  of  the  island, 
and  these  were  felt  at  Graham's  plantation,  while 
at  night  the  whole  northern  part  of  the  island  was 
lighted  by  the  almost  perpetual  lightning  that 
played  about  the  crater,  evidencing  to  all  the  cause 
of  the  thunder.  While  Graham  knew  this,  yet  he 
did  not  know  the  true  conditions  existing  in  the 
city  this  day;  did  not  know  that  semi-darkness  had 
hung  over  it  this  afternoon,  a  darkness  caused  by 
smoke  and  ashes  filling  the  air.  Perhaps  had  he 
known  this,  he  would  have  gone  for  Olive  and  in 
sisted  on  her  coming  away  with  him  or  even  com 
manding  her,  were  it  necessary.  But  matters  had 
grown  worse  since  Best  was  in  the  city  that  morn 
ing.  He  did  not  know  that  within  the  city  the 
pavement  gave  no  answering  ring  to  the  tramp  of 
the  horses'  iron  shod  hoofs,  that  the  vehicles  as 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          395 

they  rolled  along  through  the  eight  or  ten  inches 
of  ashes  gave  forth  only  muffled  sounds;  that  the 
insects  had  taken  to  cover  in  the  pores  of  the  earth; 
that  the  birds  no  longer  sang  but  instead  perched 
on  the  branches  of  the  thick-foliaged  mangoes  to 
protect  themselves  from  the  rain  of  ashes  and 
smoke. 

Yet  this  was  true.  Mount  Pelee  was  about  to 
commit  the  greatest  of  modern  tragedies  and  had 
given  warning  to  those  of  the  ill-fated  city,  who, 
unmindful,  bought  and  sold  in  the  markets  and 
"  married  and  were  given  in  marriage  "  up  to  the 
day  of  judgment,  as  did  those  of  Sodom  and  Go 
morrah. 

Graham  was  much  surprised  at  the  conditions 
within  the  city.  He  felt  that  Olive  must  suffer 
terribly  from  fear,  she  who  had  been  reared  in  a 
convent  where  at  least  the  young  are  more  suscep 
tible  to  things  of  a  terrifying  nature  than  those 
reared  less  carefully.  He  blamed  the  Bishop  for 
his  error  in  judgment  in  keeping  the  Abbess  and  her 
people  within  the  city.  Certainly  he,  whose  word 
must  be  law  here,  was  in  error. 

He  came  to  the  city,  he  found  the  ashes  so  deep 
that  it  was  with  difficulty  he  moved  about,  and  then 
only  slowly.  Yet  there  was  not  a  dearth  of  people 
in  the  streets,  for  they,  unmindful  of  the  threaten 
ing  calamity,  and  reassured  of  the  conditions  by 


396          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

those  who  claimed  to  possess  cooler  heads,  were  to 
be  seen  moving  about  their  daily  duties. 

The  city  was  in  partial  darkness  he  noted,  and 
to  relieve  this  the  electric  lights  were  trying  to 
shed  some  artificial  rays  upon  the  darksome,  ap 
palling  gloom,  and  with  little  result  as  their  light 
only  permeated  a  small  circle. 

Best  had  not  accompanied  him,  as  he  was  suf 
fering  from  a  severe  headache.  He  knew  Graham 
was  not  over  strong  as  yet,  and  gladly  would  have 
come  with  him,  yet  he  knew  not  of  the  enhanced 
critical  conditions  within  the  city,  and  so  remained 
behind. 

He  drove  to  the  United  States  Consulate.  He 
rang  the  bell.  No  answer  came  in  response.  He 
tried  it  again.  The  same  result.  Then  he  knew 
Mr.  Penticost  with  his  family  and  servants  had  left 
the  city,  as  many  had  done,  for  fear  of  the  conse 
quences  of  Pelee's  activity.  If  Mr.  Penticost 
thought  it  wise  to  flee,  why  did  not  others?  Why 
did  not  the  Bishop  allow  the  convent  people  to  go 
also. 

Graham  dined  at  the  Plaza  again.  If  the  guests 
had  been  richly  appareled  when  he  with  Best  dined 
there  last,  to-night  they  far  outshone  that  other 
night  in  the  matter  of  jewels  and  fancy  raiment. 
No  Parisian  salon  or  fashionable  cafe  ever  con 
tained  a  more  dazzling  show  of  white  polished 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          397 

shoulders  and  bare  arms,  the  one  laden  with  trap 
pings  of  sapphire  and  diamonds  or  pearls.  It  was 
indeed  a  scene  that  outshone  the  dazzling  crowd 
at  the  Cafe  de  Noir  when  Durand  was  first  intro 
duced  to  the  Devil  Worshippers,  or  of  that  throng 
that  gathered  about  the  festive  board  after  his  in 
itiation  in  the  banquet  room  of  the  Temple  of  Satan 
in  Paris. 

Unmindful  of  the  falling  ashes  outside,  of  the 
gloom  that  since  night  had  fallen  was  impenetrable, 
or  the  detonations  that  now  and  then  were  heard, 
even  though  the  lightning  flashes  were  obscured 
by  the  gloom,  these  merry  diners  seemed  una 
ware  of  the  dismal  outlook,  of  the  appalling  sense 
of  fright  that  should  have  been  theirs.  Instead, 
their  hilarity  seemed  to  Graham  to  be  intensified 
past  the  point  of  discretion.  He  noticed  that  they 
consumed  much  wine,  but  as  yet  it  had  no  effect 
save  that  of  loosening  their  tongues  and  giving 
quicker  action  to  the  brain. 

He  noticed  two  people  whom  he  had  seen  before, 
Mademoiselle  Sara  and  La  Monta.  Mademoiselle 
Sara  unmindful,  as  she  looked  upon  Graham,  of  the 
frowns  of  M.  Divan,  smiled  and  nodded,  while 
Divan  turned  his  sodden  eyes  upon  him  and  stared. 

An  hour  later,  leaving  the  merry  diners  behind, 
he  departed  from  the  Plaza,  amidst  a  gloom  whose 
impenetrable  blackness  was  all  the  time  just  ahead. 


398          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  falling  ashes  flitted  through  the  air  and  blew 
about  the  street  corners  in  drifts  a  foot  high, 
little  gusts  of  the  land  breeze  swept  it  about,  re 
minding  him  of  snow-storms  in  the  northern  country 
that  was  once  his  home.  But  he  drove  ahead  into 
the  gloom. 

With  difficulty  he  reached  the  convent  garden 
gate.  He  would  not  blame  Olive  did  she  forbear 
coming  out  this  night,  yet  knew  she  would.  Per 
haps  they  had  better  chat  a  little  and  then  part. 
They  could  chat  at  the  gate  to-night  without  being 
disturbed.  No  curious  eye  of  a  passing  pedestrian 
would  see  them  for  there  were  few  abroad,  save 
only  those  who,  mayhap,  were  bent  on  errands  of 
love  or  mischief.  He  had  not  long  to  wait.  He 
did  not  see  Olive,  until  she  was  at  the  gate,  be 
cause  of  the  gloom.  He  was  out  to  greet  her,  and 
as  she  offered  him  her  hand  he  noticed  it  trembled. 

"  An  awful  night,"  he  ventured  to  remark. 
"  Perhaps  we  are  foolish  in  starting  out." 

There  is  a  fate  that  guides  us  at  times  it  seems, 
and  makes  our  pathway  easy.  That  fate  makes  no 
wild  gesticulations,  as  at  the  cross-roads  it  bids 
us  go  this  way  or  that.  Instead  of  signals  it 
reaches  out,  takes  us  by  the  hand  and  leads  us.  This 
fate  was  kind  to  these  lovers  that  night,  for  it  was 
written  that  they  no  more  would  leave  this  convent 
under  these  circumstances.  Aye,  they  did  not  know 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          399 

it  then,  but  by  the  fact  that  they  refrained  not  from 
this  night  ride,  they  yet  live. 

Graham  at  once  began  questioning  Olive  as  to 
the  state  of  terror  that  reigned  in  the  convent  since 
the  unusual  action  of  Pelee  this  day.  He  found 
the  Abbess  had  exhibited  no  great  fear,  yet  Olive 
noticed  as  she  moved  about  dispensing  cheer  and 
counseling  bravery  that  her  face  was  very  pale. 
The  nuns  and  little  ones  had  shown  less  fortitude. 
The  afternoon  had  been  spent  indoors  by  all  the 
children,  huddled  in  little  groups  here  and  there 
about  the  halls  and  recitation  rooms, — the  nuns  at 
the  sanctuary  in  deep  prayer.  She  told  him  the 
Abbess  had  again  importuned  the  Bishop  that  they 
might  escape  from  the  city,  accepting  the  invitation 
of  Graham,  but  that  the  holy  man  persisted  in  be 
lieving  that  no  harm  would  befall  those  who  stayed 
within  the  city. 

"Are  you  not  afraid  to  stay  here,  Olive?"  he 
asked. 

For  a  reply,  she  huddled  close  to  him  and  took 
his  arm  in  hers. 

"  Would  you  not  prefer  to  come  to  my  home, 
you  and  the  others  ?  " 

Falteringly  she  answered,  "  Yes,  I  would.  I  am 
fearful  that  something  dreadful  will  happen.  I 
know  little  of  what  takes  place  in  the  city,  but  on 
every  hand,  from  the  Abbess,  and  even  the  Bishop, 


400          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

I  learn  that  the  city  is  very  wicked.  With  this 
visitation  so  evident,  it  makes  me  fear  that  God 
will  avenge  the  wrongs  committed  against  Him. 
The  Abbess  has  told  me  of  those  awful  blasphemers, 
the  Devil  Worshippers,  who  have  a  temple  here. 
I  have  thought  much  about  them  all  day,  and  it  has 
impressed  me  that  he  might  now  punish  them  for 
their  idolatry  and  blasphemy." 

'  Yes,"  said  her  lover,  "  the  city  is  most  wicked 
and  I  fear  for  its  ultimate  ending,  or  at  least  for  the 
ultimate  ending  of  the  people,  but  just  now  I  am 
more  interested  in  your  welfare  and  those  in  the 
convent,  whom  I  have  come  to  regard  favorably. 
Do  you  think  the  Bishop  would  lend  an  ear  to  my 
efforts  did  I  seek  to  convince  him  of  the  danger  of 
staying  here?  " 

"  Yes, — no, — I  don't  know ;  but  try  it,  will  you  ?  " 

'*  Yes,  in  the  morning,  if  nothing  prevents,  I  will 
call  on  him  and  argue  the  case.  Believe  me,  I  will 
argue  it  most  eloquently."  She  knew  he  meant  that 
his  love  for  her  would  be  the  inspiration  for  his 
eloquence. 

A  half  hour  later  they  had  hardly  gone  two  miles 
about  the  city  because  of  the  impediment  the  vol 
cano  had  sent.  They  continued  on  their  way  for  a 
time,  talking  as  only  lovers  can. 

The  horse  became  weary.  Graham  urged  him 
on.  His  pace  was  growing  slower  and  finally  he 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          401 

stopped.  A  great  coughing  sound  escaped  him  and 
he  lay  down.  Graham  was  out  and  examining  him 
at  once.  The  horse  shuddered,  coughed  again  and 
lay  quiet.  He  was  dead,  suffocated. 

Olive  sat  quiet,  in  the  meantime,  wondering  what 
the  trouble  might  be.  Graham's  words  to  her 
were  not  reassuring.  "  Can  you  walk  back,  dear 
est?" 

"Why,  yes,"  she  said,  "what  is  the  matter?" 

"  The  horse  is  dead.  I  am  afraid  we  will  have 
to  abandon  the  wagon  here.  How  will  I  get  home, 
even  if  we  reach  the  convent?" 

"  Cannot  a  livery  be  found  ?  " 

"  No  livery  will  venture  a  rig  out  to-night.  I 
will  take  you  to  the  convent  and  then  stop  at  the 
Plaza  for  the  night.  Best  will  worry,  but  that  can 
not  be  helped." 

He  helped  her  down  from  her  seat.  She  held 
her  skirts  in  her  hand  to  keep  them  from  sweeping 
the  ashes. 

Graham  felt  perfectly  at  home  so  far  as  their  lo 
cation  was  concerned.  They  walked  on  for  a  dozen 
blocks,  long  and  short  as  the  irregular  city  af 
forded. 

"  Strange,"  said  he,  "  but  I  thought  we  should 
have  come  out  on  the  Rue  Victor  Hugo  before  this. 
Can  it  be  we  are  lost  in  so  small  a  city?  If  so,  the 
26 


402          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

darkness  and  winding  streets  are  responsible  rather 
than  the  size  of  the  town." 

They  retraced  their  steps  for  a  time.  Graham 
tried  hard  to  get  his  bearings,  but  failed.  Olive 
felt  well  worn  out  through  the  day,  and  when 
the  horse  died  she  felt  like  crying,  but  did  not. 
Now  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Ah,"  she  sobbed,  "  we  are  lost,  and  at  such  a 
time  as  this." 

He  might  have  been  more  reassuring,  but  he  also 
was  a  bit  terrified  by  the  confronting  facts,  and 
moreover  he  was  not  yet  strong  and  felt  himself 
growing  weaker.  This  was  responsible  for  his 
answer. 

"  Yes,  I  fear  we  are  lost." 

He  felt  the  hand  on  his  arm  relax.  He  turned 
and  in  the  darkness  saw  her  reel  slightly.  She  must 
have  shelter.  He  grasped  her  in  his  arms  and 
stalked  up  the  approach  to  a  brick  house,  of  whose 
large  outline  he  could  see  but  a  part.  As  he  ap 
proached  it,  carrying  the  fainting  Olive,  he  saw, 
through  the  Ethiopian  darkness,  windows  from 
which  a  dull,  red  glare  shone  forth.  Opening  the 
door,  not  pausing  to  ceremoniously  knock,  or  ring 
the  bell,  he  set  Olive  down  inside  and  stepped  in 
after  her. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          403 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AFTER  the  duel  Durand  had  paid  no  attention  to 
the  wounded  Le  Tosco.  "  Bah,"  he  thought,  "  the 
idiot  has  blundered.  He  deserved  to  be  shot  and 
suffer."  Next  time  he  would  entrust  with  his  deli 
cate  work  only  those  who  were  apt  or  cute,  and  not 
a  money-loving  nigger  like  this.  So  he  dismissed 
Le  Tosco  altogether  from  his  mind,  not  even  in 
quiring  after  him  or  his  wound.  He  might  be 
dead  for  all  he  knew  or  cared.  To  inquire  after 
him  or  to  pay  the  surgeon's  bill  did  not  enter  his 
mind,  as  being  a  just  and  proper  thing  to  do.  He 
used  his  money  where  it  benefited  himself.  Le 
Tosco,  if  he  had  succeeded  in  killing  Graham,  would 
have  been  well  paid.  As  it  turned  out,  he  must 
provide  his  own  surgeon,  so  far  as  Durand  was 
concerned. 

Yet  Le  Tosco  had  not  fared  badly  since  his  in 
jury.  Far  from  it.  His  bills  had  been  paid,  his 
table  supplied  and  he  himself  well  cared  for.  The 
promptness  of  the  surgeon  in  applying  the  tour 
niquet  had  saved  his  life.  The  wound  was  opened 
wide  and  long.  In  a  few  days  the  swelling  had 


404          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

subsided  and  he  was  much  better.  The  hardihood 
of  the  negro  race  stood  him  well  in  hand,  and  he 
recovered  quickly. 

Mile.  Sara  it  was  who  had  paid  his  bills,  who  had 
furnished  his  table.  On  her  advice,  he  refrained 
from  working,  even  when  well  enough  to  do  so.  She 
seemed  to  have  taken  a  strange  fancy  to  him.  He 
did  not  understand  why  but  he  was  willing,  so  long 
as  she  maintained  him  in  idleness.  He  did  not 
know  it,  but  she  was  training  him  to  do  her  will. 
She  was  impressing  upon  him  that  to  her  he  owed 
great  gratitude  and  obedience.  Like  a  horse  being 
fitted  for  the  race,  she  was  training  Le  Tosco  for  a 
major  part  in  a  tragedy  she  would  soon  stage. 
And  the  motive  for  that  tragedy  was  the  slogan 
that  prompted  her.  It  was  to  be  found  in  the  word 
revenge,  a  word  sweet  to  the  wronged  or  vindictive. 

Durand  had  in  public  rejected  her  when  before 
Graham  and  Best  he  denounced  her.  Those 
references  to  the  similarity  between  her  and 
Potiphar's  wife  should  not  go  unpunished.  He 
would  be  made  to  bite  the  dust.  She  would  kill. 
Yes  and  Le  Tosco  would  do  it  for  her.  She  would 
make  him  do  it,  and  he  would  be  willing  ere  she  had 
finished  with  him.  So  she  worked  into  the  graces 
of  Le  Tosco  and  his  wife.  She  called  on  him  every 
day.  She  told  the  surgeon  to  call  every  day.  She 
paid  the  bills  and  the  surgeon  well  knew  Le  Tosco 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          405 

no  longer  required  his  skill,  yet  the  pay  was  good, 
and  why  should  he  not  call? 

As  for  Le  Tosco,  he  liked  it  and  so  did  his  wife. 
The  beautiful  French  lady  surely  must  love  them 
to  do  so  much  for  them.  In  this  way,  she  completely 
won  their  confidence.  One  day  as  they  sat  together, 
she  having  generously  emptied  a  wrell  filled  purse 
in  the  dusky  wife's  hand,  she  suddenly  asked: 

"  Le  Tosco,  did  you  and  M.  Durand  ever  quarrel 
previous  to  that  duel?" 

"  No,  Mademoiselle.     Why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Because  I  am  looking  for  the  motive  he  had  in 
trying  to  kill  you." 

"Kill  me?  He  did  not  try  to.  It  was  an  accident." 

"  Bah  !  "  said  the  crafty  Sara.  "  He  wanted  to 
hit  you." 

"  I  can't  believe  it,  Mademoiselle.  Can't  believe 
it." 

"  Can't  believe  it.  Why  not  ?  He  has  not  been 
to  see  you  nor  to  care  for  you.  Where  is  there  a 
gentleman  who  at  least  would  do  less  than  inquire 
for  you,  to  say  nothing  about  paying  the  surgeon's 
bill  for  a  poor  man  he  had  wounded?  " 

Le  Tosco  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  he  said, 
"  He  was  most  generous  before  this." 

'  To  be  sure,  he  was  looking  out  then  that  you 
did  not  escape  him." 

Le  Tosco  moaned.     "Do  you  believe  it?" 


406          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Certainly  I  believe  it.  Why  did  his  shot  go  far 
wide  of  his  opponent  ?  It  was  meant  for  you." 

"  Why  should  he  want  to  kill  me  ?  "  said  the 
alarmed  native. 

This  inquiry  rather  staggered  the  sagacious  and 
quick-witted  adventuress  for  a  moment,  but  her 
wits  came  to  her  suddenly.  She  knew  the  deep- 
rooted  superstition  of  the  colored  race.  She  would 
play  upon  that  superstition.  She  also  well  knew 
that  the  presence  of  the  Devil  Worshippers  and  their 
temple  was  known  to  the  natives,  that  they  feared  it 
and  cared  not  to  go  near  it  alone  at  night,  that  the 
mention  of  the  cult  drove  frantic  thoughts  through 
their  minds  and  played  havoc  with  their  judgment. 
Confidentially  she  leaned  forward,  raising  her  finger 
to  her  lips  in  token  of  great  secrecy  and  whispered 
hoarsely,  "  M.  Durand  is  a  Devil  Worshipper." 

His  mulatto  skin  whitened.  He  trembled  and 
raised  a  palsied  hand.  "  No,  can  it  be?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  true." 

Mile.  Sara  was  a  psychologist.  She  knew  she 
had  touched  a  chord  in  Le  Tosco's  sensibilities  that 
would  work  out  to  her  desires.  Le  Tosco  would  no 
longer  try  and  reason  out  a  motive  for  Durand's 
actions.  She  had  cast  the  dart  that  would  tell.  She 
arose  and  departed. 

The  next  day  Mile.  Sara  called  again.  She 
talked  of  many  things.  Le  Tosco  was  better.  She 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          407 

could  see  it  in  his  countenance.  Would  he  soon  go 
back  to  work  at  the  Plaza?  She  had  inquired  and 
found  that  the  management  were  holding  the  place 
open  for  their  former  valuable  employe.  Le  Tosco 
discovered  he  was  much  improved.  Yes,  he  would 
soon  be  back  at  work.  In  fact  this  day  he  would 
go  and  see  about  his  former  place.  So  he  would. 
His  manner  was  nervous  and  agitated  when  in  her 
presence.  She  saw  he  wished  to  talk  about  some 
thing  else,  but  she  did  not  assist  him  by  mentioning 
the  topic  she  knew  he  wanted  mentioned.  After  a 
time  she  arose  to  leave  the  small  stucco  house  he 
called  his  home.  He  felt  he  must  speak  now. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  commenced,  "  are  you  certain 
M.  Durand  wanted  to  kill  me?" 

She   merely   smiled   in   reply. 

"Why  should  he?"  he  asked. 

"  To  feed  you  to  his  devils,"  she  replied.  Her 
reply  caused  her  to  smile,  but  he  did  not  see  it. 
Again  he  was  agitated,  more  so  than  the  day 
previous. 

"  Will  he  try  it  again  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  The  devils  are  always  hungry,"  and  she  was 
off,  while  the  affrighted,  superstitious  negro  looked 
after  her.  He  shook  his  head  as  she  passed  out  of 
sight. 

"  I  must  do  it,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  glancing 


408          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

at  his  wife  lest  she  should  hear  him.  "  I  must  do 
it." 

The  next  day  Le  Tosco  was  back  at  work  at  the 
Plaza.  Mile.  Sara  saw  him,  and  welcomed  him 
cheerfully.  When  he  had  time  would  he  come  to 
her  room  ?  She  would  see  him.  Shortly  afterward 
he  came. 

"  Le  Tosco,"  she  said,  "  how  are  you  going  to 
repay  M.  Durand  for  his  attempt  to  kill  you?  " 

His  eyes  rolled  this  way  and  that  before  he 
replied.  Then  it  came,  straight  from  the  frightened 
negro's  heart :  "  I  will  kill  him." 

Mile.  Sara  showed  no  surprise.  To  have  done 
so  might  have  caused  him  to  change  his  mind.  She 
looked  at  him  a  second,  and  then  asked  simply 
"How?" 

"  I  don't  know  how,  but  I  will." 

"  Le  Tosco,  he  would  kill  you  with  the  poison 
of  the  fer  de  lance?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  but  he  failed  to  see  what 
she  would  bring  out. 

"  Then  I  would  kill  him  in  the  same  way." 

"  Not  with  a  poisoned  bullet.  I  would  be  de 
tected." 

"  They  who  would  slay  with  the  sword  must 
perish  by  the  sword,"  quoted  Sara.  "  Let  the  fer 
de  lance  do  its  own  work  on  him." 

"How?" 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          409 

She  leaned  forward  and  they  whispered  together, 
whispering  for  the  very  reason  that  she  remembered 
even  walls  may  have  ears. 

The  day  following  was  set  for  carrying  out  the 
plot.  Le  Tosco  left  his  home  in  the  morning  and 
proceeded  on  foot  out  of  the  city  and  to  the  north 
toward  Pelee.  He  was  amazed  at  the  prevalent 
conditions,  the  result  of  Pelee's  activity. 

The  conditions  grew  worse  as  he  came  nearer  the 
foot  of  the  volcano.  He  was  too  engrossed  to 
experience  alarm  just  now.  For  a  few  days,  he  had 
felt  he  must  move  forward  if  he  would  destroy  the 
man  who  sought  his  life ;  aye,  who  was  not  fit  to  live 
himself  and  who  by  his  devil  worshipping  practices 
was  a  destroyer  of  the  faith  that  with  Le  Tosco  was 
a  mania. 

Le  Tosco  went  well  out  of  the  city  and  then  drove 
into  the  thicket  that  touched  the  roadside,  skirting 
Mt.  Pelee's  base.  Up  the  foothills  through  the 
ash  he  climbed  a  distance;  then  came  into  a  path 
that  ascended  the  mountain  diagonally.  In  the  midst 
of  thick  foliage  he  stopped  in  front  of  a  peculiar, 
stone-like  pile,  that  on  the  outside  resembled  closely 
a  vault  for  the  dead.  Indeed  it  was  the  front  of  a 
hovel  that  was  made  by  excavating  back  into  the 
earth,  as  are  made  our  modern  vaults.  In  the  center 
of  this  stone  work  was  a  door.  On  this  Le  Tosco 
rapped  hard. 


410         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

The  door  was  pushed  a  little  way  open  and  a  face 
of  Nubian  darkness  protruded. 

"  Hello  Ferro,  the  charmer,"  said  Le  Tosco. 

The  man  thus  saluted  scrutinized  the  intruder 
a  moment  and  in  poor  French  jargon  asked,  "  What 
would  you  with  me? 

"  I  would  buy  a  '  lance,'  "  said  he,  using  the  term 
by  which  the  natives  term  this  most  deadly  snake. 

The  man  saluted  as  Ferro,  the  charmer,  invited 
him  in.  Ferro  was  a  most  unwholesome  looking 
individual, — black,  with  long  hair,  flat  nose  and  a 
brow  so  sloping  as  to  make  it  hard  to  determine 
if  it  were  really  meant  for  a  brow,  and  with  fierce, 
protruding  teeth.  His  clothes  were  ragged  and 
reeking  with  filth. 

Le  Tosco  once  inside  looked  about  him.  The 
excavation  was  perhaps  twenty  feet  long  and  twelve 
feet  wide  and  divided  in  two  apartments.  In  one 
lived  Ferro,  the  charmer.  In  the  other  lived  Ferro's 
pets,  his  snakes. 

The  snakes  were  shut  off  from  Ferro's  apartments 
by  means  of  an  iron  screen  extending  across  the 
front.  They  were  his  stock  in  trade, — his  bread 
and  butter.  On  his  dexterity  as  a  snake  catcher  de 
pended  his  livelihood.  The  venom  of  the  "  lance  " 
was  held  in  high  esteem  by  the  natives.  As  a  charm 
against  evil  and  disease  it  was  in  their  minds  most 
effectual.  Not  content  with  a  vial  in  the  pocket  or 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          411 

attached  perhaps  to  a  string  about  the  neck,  many 
also  wore  the  skin  of  the  snake  as  a  belt  about  their 
waists.  So  this  barbaric  Ferro,  with  his  pipe  or 
flute  could  charm  them,  and  after  killing  could  bar 
ter  the  pelt  and  venom  for  a  goodly  sum. 

Ferro  moved  back  a  small  door  of  the  cage,  and 
took  down  his  pipe  from  the  wall.  Slowly  he  began 
playing  on  it.  The  weird  character  ol  the  music 
that  filled  this  room  in  the  earth,  together  with 
the  darkness,  the  only  light  coming  through  open 
ings  in  the  stone  on  either  side  of  the  door,  where 
the  fresh  air  also  entered, — this  darkness  made  still 
deeper  by  the  ash  gloom  outside, — made  Le  Tosco 
forgetful  of  his  mission  and  almost  fearful  of  the 
surroundings. 

Ferro,  the  charmer,  continued  to  play  on  the 
pipe.  A  reptile's  head  with  red  forked  tongue, 
darting  in  and  out,  came  slowly  from  the  cage. 
Another  followed  and  another  and  another.  The 
floor  about  him  became  black  with  a  writhing  mass 
of  creeping  snakes.  Le  Tosco,  as  he  looked,  forgot 
his  fear,  so  intent  was  his  gaze  fixed  on  Ferro  and 
his  snakes.  The  serpents  became  intently  interested 
in  the  music,  if  such  the  noise  could  be  called. 
Ferro  blew  out  louder  and  bolder  notes.  The 
snakes  held  aloft  their  heads.  Ferro  swayed 
his  body  from  side  to  side.  The  reptiles  swayed 
their  bodies.  They  were  now  in  his  control.  He 


4i2          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

had  made  good  his  title  of  "  Ferro,  the  charmer." 
These  deadly,  loathsome  snakes  were  now  in  the 
magical  power  of  their  master  who  sold  them  dead 
or  alive  for  money. 

Ferro's  eyes  sought  Le  Tosco's,  the  pipe  keeping 
up  its  loud  tones  all  this  while.  Ferro  motioned 
with  his  head  toward  one  huge  snake  that  was 
close  on  him,  as  if  to  ask,  "  Would  that  one  do?  " 
Le  Tosco  nodded  in  reply. 

The  music  suddenly  ceased.  Ferro  dexterously 
swung  his  hand  and  caught  the  charmed  and 
unsuspecting  reptile  just  back  of  his  head.  He 
roused  from  his  torpor.  He  wriggled  and  wound 
himself  about  his  captor's  black  arm,  his  fangs  dart 
ing,  his  eyes  ablaze.  Ferro  picked  up  a  bag  and 
landed  the  writhing  snake  in  it.  With  broom-like 
boughs  he  brushed  the  others  back  into  the  cage. 

Le  Tosco  asked  the  price,  paid  it  and  left.  As 
he  moved  along  toward  home,  he  congratulated 
himself  that  the  money  Sara  had  given  him  for  this 
purpose  was  twice  as  much  as  Ferro  had  exacted. 

This  was  the  morning  of  the  day  Graham  came 
into  the  city,  the  day  when  at  night  he  had  dined 
at  the  Plaza  and  had  noted  Sara's  radiance,  the 
result  of  expected  consummation  of  a  revenge  she 
had  prepared  for  the  man  who  had  scorned  her, 
who  had  compromised  her  name  in  the  presence 
of  other  men.  This  afternoon,  in  spite  of  terror- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          413 

izing  conditions  abounding  throughout  the  city, 
these  conspirators  held  whispered  consultation  in 
the  room  the  mademoiselle  had  rented  that  she 
might  spy  upon  Durand.  Late  in  the  evening  Le 
Tosco  carried  out  the  plans  they  laid  down. 

It  was  an  opportune  time,  too,  for  the  consum 
mation  of  the  plans.  The  hotel  was  deserted.  In 
spite  of  conditions  out  doors,  he  noticed  the  guests 
nearly  all  depart  in  carriages,  depart  in  the  darkness, 
with  muffled  sound.  Those  remaining  had  gone  to 
bed,  or  the  few  who  had  not  were  seated  about  the 
corridors  in  groups  of  two  and  three,  discussing  the 
eruption  and  accompanying  earthquake.  None 
noticed  him  as  he  passed  up  the  stairs  and  to  the 
suite  of  rooms  occupied  by  Durand. 

In  his  hand  he  carried  the  same  bag  he  had 
procured  from  Ferro  in  the  morning.  Its  contents 
was  a  bit  more  lively  than  then.  Le  Tosco  had 
secured  the  duplicate  key  to  Durand's  room  and 
easily  let  himself  in.  Here  he  opened  the  bag,  and 
holding  the  top  up  with  his  other  hand  extracted 
a  small  bottle  from  a  pocket,  grasped  the  cork  in 
his  teeth  and  extracting  it,  poured  the  contents  in  the 
bag.  The  pungent,  volatile  odor  of  chloroform  filled 
the  room.  The  serpent  at  once  became  more  quiet. 
The  ceaseless  squirming  now  was  lulled,  and  finally 
stopped.  Laying  down  the  bag,  Le  Tosco  went 
softly  out  to  return  a  moment  later  with  a  stick  some 


4H          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

three  feet  long,  and  a  coil  of  wire  in  his  hand. 
Catching  up  the  lower  end  of  the  bag,  he  dropped 
the  snake  out  on  the  floor.  Then  he  straightened 
his  serpentship,  and  laid  the  stick  down  beside  him. 
The  serpent  was  still  under  the  chloroform,  but  for 
fear  he  would  not  stay  so  long  the  man  worked 
quickly,  uncoiling  the  wire,  and  winding  it  around 
both  snake  and  stick,  winding  it  tightly  so  that  the 
wire  nearly  sank  into  the  snake's  skin.  As  he 
finished,  he  looked  upon  his  work.  The  snake's  head 
overlapped  the  end  of  the  stick  to  which  he  was 
bound,  by  a  good  foot.  When  he  awoke  it  was 
plain  he  could  not  crawl  but  could  use  his  head  to 
advantage.  Then  he  opened  the  bed,  the  bed  upon 
which  he  expected  Durand  would  repose,  and  placed 
the  serpent  well  toward  the  foot  of  the  bed,  his 
head  toward  the  upper  end. 

As  he  replaced  the  clothes,  the  snake  awakened, 
striking  this  way  and  that,  writhing  and  twisting, 
but  the  tough  wire  held  him.  He  quieted  at  last 
and  seemed  content  to  await  developments,  to  await 
the  time  when  he  would  perform  the  work  a 
jealous,  bad,  devil-worshipping  woman  had  planned. 

This  was  to  be  the  revenge  of  Mile.  Sara,  the  re 
jected  lover  of  Durand,  unless  God  interposed. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          415 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

As  Graham  and  Olive  entered  the  house,  to  keep 
back  the  dust  and  gases  he  closed  the  door  quickly 
behind.  Aside  from  the  uncertainty  of  getting 
back  with  Olive  to  the  convent,  the  sulphur  in  the 
atmosphere  had  almost  choked  them,  and  he 
thought  Olive  would  be  better  inside.  They  needed 
shelter  to  drive  away  the  disquieting  effects  of  the 
conditions  abroad  that  night,  for  none,  we  have 
said,  would  venture  out  save  for  mischief  or  love. 

He  seated  Olive  on  a  settle  that  was  near  the 
door.  She  was  better  at  once.  A  mirror  over  her 
head  showed  him  as  he  looked  up  that  he  was  pale, 
while  a  certain  trembling  of  his  limbs  told  him  he 
was  both  agitated  and  weak.  He  wondered  whose 
house  it  was  he  had  invaded.  He  saw  no  one,  heard 
no  noise  of  moving  about  or  talking.  The  hour 
was  not  far  from  ten.  Surely  the  owner  or  his 
family  had  not  yet  retired.  He  looked  about  and  saw 
opposite  the  settle,  a  door.  He  would  see  the 
family,  he  thought,  and  explain  their  intrusion. 


416          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Surely  they  would  be  forgiven  for  it  on  such  a 
night  as  this.  Who  could  refuse  shelter  to  them  ? 

He  opened  this  door  and  stepped  into  a  drawing- 
room,  furnished  as  any  similar  room  might  be 
furnished.  There  were  no  occupants.  Coming  out 
he  advanced  down  the  very  long  hall,  to  a  door, 
some  distance  from  the  one  they  entered.  He  tried 
it  and  again  invaded  a  room  of  the  house  whose 
owner  he  sought.  This  room  was  similar  to  the  first 
one,  only  smaller,  and  looked  to  be  a  more  private 
retreat.  Olive  had  followed  him  and  now  the  two 
walked  on  together  and  came  to  a  door  at  the  far 
end  of  this  hall  or  corridor.  He  noticed  it  was 
a  double  door,  ponderous  and  heavy.  He  would 
enter.  He  thought  they  might  be  obliged  to  spend 
the  night  here,  at  least  if,  after  inquiry,  they  found 
themselves  far  from  the  convent.  He  must  seek 
some  one  in  this  house  of  whom  he  could  make  in 
quiry  or  ask  for  privileges. 

Graham  seized  the  knob  and  pulling  the  door 
open,  stepped  in,  Olive  following  close  behind.  The 
door  closed  behind  them  with  a  dull  noise.  They 
were  in  a  room  that,  save  for  a  light  in  the  center, 
which  was  intermittent,  was  gloomy. 

A  voice  on  their  left  spoke.  "  I  must  have  been 
nodding  I  guess." 

Graham  saw  the  figure  of  a  man,  who  arose  from 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          417 

a  chair  nearby.  He  took  one  step  toward  them. 
"  The  countersign,  please." 

Graham  did  not  understand.  The  voice  repeated, 
"  The  countersign,  please." 

Just  then  the  waning  light  came  out  bright  again. 
It  lasted  momentarily,  yet  long  enough  for  Graham 
to  see  a  brilliant  reflection  upon  a  large  motto  over 
the  door,  a  motto  some  fifteen  feet  long  and  with 
letters  six  inches  high,  standing  out.  They  seemed 
to  be  of  burnished  gold,  so  bright  did  they  look. 
As  he  looked  distinctly  he  read,  "  All  hope  abandon 
ye  who  enter  here." 

The  blood  in  his  veins  seemed  congealed.  He 
gasped  as  the  suspicion  of  where  they  were  came  to 
him,  this  place  of  Devil  worship  into  which  he  had 
led  Olive. 

The  man  at  his  left  again  asked,  "  Monsieur, 
will  you  oblige  me  with  the  pass  words  ?  " 

His  tones  were  not  soft;  they  were  severe.  Olive 
noticed  this  and  wondered  what  they  would  do.  As 
for  Graham,  he  was  too  bewildered  at  the  words  he 
had  read  and  the  knowledge  they  carried  with  them 
to  hear  what  was  said.  Audibly  he  murmured, 
"  All  hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here." 

He  repeated  it  unconsciously  as  one  may  those 
things  which  please  or  disturb  or  impress  him. 

The  guard  at  once  replied.  "  It  is  well,  but  why 
27 


418          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

not  give  it  to  me  at  first?  I  almost  suspected 
you  were  spies." 

Olive  took  his  arm  and  whispered, 

"  Come,  let  us  move.  You  have  guessed  the 
pass  word." 

Then  it  occurred  to  Graham  just  what  had  hap 
pened.  They  had  stumbled  into  the  most  secret 
room  of  the  Devil  Worshippers.  The  guard  was 
supposed  to  take  the  pass  word  from  members 
before  they  entered.  But  while  he  slept  they  had 
entered,  and  the  words  over  the  door  which  Graham 
had  seen,  and  unconsciously  and  through  great 
surprise  articulated,  were  the  pass  words.  Should 
they  leave?  He  did  not  want  to  expose  Olive  to 
harm  here.  They  could  not  go  out  in  the  street 
again  and  wander  about.  Neither  of  them  could  go 
much  farther.  Perhaps  they  could  stay  here  awhile 
and  rest.  He  was  a  bit  fond  of  adventure.  Not 
to  the  degree  his  friend  Best  was  perhaps,  but  he 
was  loath  to  go  without  some  exploration  of  this 
place,  a  place  which  probably  no  one  not  identified 
with  the  Satanists  had  ever  entered. 

After  walking  forward  some  ten  paces,  they 
stopped.  The  ominous  light  had  led  them  on  so  far. 
Now  the  shutting  of  the  door  behind  them,  the  one 
by  which  they  had  entered,  as  it  clicked,  sent  a 
tremor  through  them.  Did  the  guard  suspect  them 
and  had  he  locked  them  in?  Graham  had  not 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          419 

whispered  to  Olive  the  nature  of  the  place,  and  she, 
poor  girl,  only  realized  that  something  about  this 
place,  with  the  intermittent  light,  was  terrorizing. 

She  trembled  as  they  heard  the  door  close.  Then 
they  stared  a  minute  at  the  mysterious  light,  a  light 
that  was  of  the  same  mechanical  contrivance  as 
Durand  had  seen  in  the  Temple  of  Satan  at  Paris. 
Then  they  heard  something  click,  and  a  great  burst 
of  light  overspread  the  place,  as  a  myriad  electric 
bulbs  shed  out  their  brilliancy  from  the  sides  and 
from  the  great  dome  overhead. 

They  were  now  facing  the  center  of  the  room,  a 
room  perhaps  seventy-five  feet  square,  with  an 
arched  dome  high  over  all.  Their  eyes  were  blinded 
by  the  glare  of  light  at  first,  yet  at  once  they  saw, 
and  such  a  sight.  Rearing  itself  at  least  a  dozen 
feet  high,  there  was  a  most  glaring  thing  of  metal, 
— a  devil,  huge,  hideous,  awful.  Its  horrid  hooked 
nose,  with  leering  lips  and  protruding  tongue,  was 
typical  of  all  the  devils  those  people  worshipped. 
An  extended  arm  dropped  living  fire  into  the  pan 
placed  for  that  purpose.  Its  shoulders  were  nearly 
four  feet  across,  the  arm  fully  one  and  a  half  yards 
long,  and  very  large  in  proportion.  It  sat  on  a  large 
raised  platform  or  dais,  the  dais  forming  a  table 
about  it,  and  was  for  the  presumable  purpose  of 
receiving  offerings.  The  body  ended  where  it  met 


420          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

this  platform,  so  that  the  bust  was  really  all  there 
was  to  the  devil. 

Graham  took  a  step  backward  as  he  looked.  As 
for  Olive,  she  did  not  shriek  as  might  have  been 
expected.  Instead  she  turned  a  whitened  face  to 
ward  her  lover  inquiringly. 

"  We  are  in  the  temple  of  the  Devil  Worshippers," 
he  said,  as  he  grasped  her  arm  to  steady  her.  "  But 
have  courage,  we  will  leave  at  once." 

They  started  for  the  door.  He  would  try  it  and 
see  if  they  could  not  leave.  His  eyes  peered  about 
the  room  as  they  advanced.  It  was  richly  furnished 
with  plush,  damask  and  leather  covered  furniture. 
Facing  the  idol,  was  another  dais  on  which  was  a 
chair  of  gold  and  silver.  It  might  have  graced  the 
throne  of  a  king  or  emperor,  had  it  been  used  for  a 
different  purpose.  Graham  guessed  that  here  the 
great  potentate  of  this  sect  sat  and  ruled  those 
of  his  faith.  Just  back  of  this  great  chair  he  saw 
statuary  on  pedestals,  and  paintings  hanging  from 
the  walls.  Above  it  all  was  an  illustrated  frieze  of 
tri-colored  demons,  deformed  and  seemingly  furious. 
It  was  plain  that  the  designer  of  this  frieze,  aside 
from  understanding  demons,  had  been  a  despoiler  of 
the  tombs  of  ancient  Egypt,  and  therefrom  drew 
many  of  these  designs.  They  looked  upon  paintings 
of  demons,  half  man,  half  horse,  and  of  great  satyrs. 
The  statuary  was  both  ancient  and  modern.  That 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          421 

of  modern  date  was  not  inferior  to  the  others. 
There  were  Devils  with  smaller  imps  growing  out 
of  their  abdomens,  their  arms  ending  in  writhing, 
coiling  snakes.  The  ancient  ones  showed  again  the 
despoiler's  hand,  for  none  but  the  tomb  of  a 
Rameses  or  a  Pharaoh  could  furnish  such  deities  of 
black  basalt  rock  as  had  been  made  to  serve  as  devils. 
Demons  of  wood  and  of  stone  everywhere  sat 
about. 

Graham  looked  with  interest  upon  these  mementos 
and  tokens.  Olive  shuddered,  yet  did  not  collapse 
as  a  delicate  woman  might  be  expected  to  in  such 
a  place. 

They  reached  the  door.  Graham  felt  instinctively 
that  the  guard  stood  just  outside.  He  felt  that  he 
had  flashed  on  the  lights  of  the  temple  as  visitors 
were  expected,  or  rites  were  to  be  celebrated. 

Remembering  the  outside  conditions,  he  shuddered 
as  he  pictured  Pelee  above  them  manifesting  the 
power  of  the  God  who  placed  "  its  awful  foundations 
in  the  central  fires,"  while  inside  blasphemous 
ceremonies  might  ensue.  He  hoped  to  walk  boldly 
out,  unobserved  perhaps  save  by  the  unsuspecting 
guard,  and  to  find  shelter  elsewhere. 

He  put  his  hand  to  the  door  and  opened  it.  He 
would  have  motioned  Olive  out  and  followed  her, 
had  it  not  been  that  he  glanced  down  the  hall. 
There  he  saw  at  least  a  score  of  people  who  had 


422          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

just  entered.  He  feared  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  so 
many  scrutinizing  eyes.  He  knew  not  the  penalty 
the  Satanists'  by-laws  prescribed  for  spies,  but  he 
felt  that  men  and  women,  who  could  in  praise  and 
adoration  consider  the  demons  and  things  devilish 
they  had  just  looked  on,  would,  in  keeping  with 
these  things,  mete  out  terrible  punishment  to  eaves 
droppers.  He  closed  the  door  quickly  and  drew 
back. 

His  eyes  sought  the  farther  side  of  the  house. 
There  was  a  small  door.  He  grasped  Olive's  arm. 
Together  they  ran  across  the  lodge  room,  or,  as 
they  thought,  the  Chamber  of  Awful  Things,  and 
to  this  door,  which  opened  as  Graham  tried  it. 
They  stepped  inside.  The  room  was  merely  a 
private  room  of  the  dignitaries  of  the  order,  as  the 
paraphernalia  upon  the  walls  and  about  it  proved. 
It  was  useless  for  them  as  a  hiding-place  then. 
Graham  had  hoped  it  had  an  outside  connection. 
This  was  not  so. 

They  again  stepped  out  into  the  main  chamber. 
No  other  door  was  to  be  seen,  save  the  one  by  which 
they  first  entered.  In  their  extremity,  as  Graham's 
eyes  sought  about  for  an  exit  or  a  place  to  secrete 
themselves,  his  glance  fell  upon  something  before 
unnoticed.  So  engrossed  had  they  been  in  viewing 
the  walls  and  devils  above  that  one  thing  that  now 
was  to  prove  highly  important  to  them  had  escaped 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          423 

their  notice.  It  was  this ;  the  dais  upon  which  rested 
the  chief  or  central  devil  was  surrounded  with  a 
black  drapery  that  hung  loosely  all  around  the 
circular  platform  and  to  the  floor.  Graham  ran  to  it 
and  pulled  it  up  and  peered  underneath  There  was 
space  and  a  hiding-place. 

"  Quick,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper  to  Olive, — 
and  he  held  aloft  the  black  curtain  or  pall. 

She  was  on  her  knees  and  under  at  once  and  he 
followed  close  behind. 


424          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

VAGUELY  had  rumors  come  to  Graham  in  the 
past  of  this  cult  who  worshipped  Satan.  Olive  too 
had  heard  the  nuns  tremblingly  mention  them, 
while  all  the  populace  knew  of  them  only  with 
superstitious  fear.  With  this  in  mind,  Graham  now 
was  amazed  at  the  condition  fate  had  forced  upon 
Olive  and  himself.  Under  the  chief  idol  or  devil  of 
a  devil-worshipping  cult,  whose  followers  he  believed 
would  kill  both  him  and  Olive,  should  they  be 
detected,  was  the  situation  in  which  they  found 
themselves. 

How  long,  they  asked  themselves,  would  they  be 
here?  Before  long  it  would  be  midnight,  the 
ghastly  hour  which  these  revilers  of  sacred  things 
had  chosen  for  their  rites,  Graham  whispered  to 
Olive,  as  they  heard  the  doors  of  the  entrance 
open.  A  moment  later,  music  from  an  organ  floated 
out  to  them.  Then  they  heard  the  tramp  of  many 
feet  as  if  a  host  was  moving  in.  Many  voices  in 
unison  broke  out  in  chanting. 

The  procession  halted  in  front  of  the  huge  idol. 
Some  stood  so  close  that  Graham  could  have 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          425 

touched  their  shoes.  A  seam  in  the  curtain  or  pall, 
behind  which  they  were  sheltered,  had  parted  a 
bit.  Through  it  Graham  gazed  and  glancing  up 
ward  looked  into  the  face  of  La  Monta.  This  second 
of  Durand's  was  then  a  Devil  worshipper.  He 
noticed  the  dress  of  La  Monta.  On  his  head  was 
a  scarlet  turban,  set  with  jewels;  over  his  shoulders 
hung  a  scarlet  silk  robe  with  gold  facings.  About 
his  neck  hung  a  flaming  stole,  embroidered  with 
designs  of  devils  and  satyrs. 

About  La  Monta  were  clustered  a  dozen  people, 
men  all  save  one.  They  were  dressed  in  robes  of 
the  same  style  as  their  chief,  except  these  were 
of  a  different  hue.  They  wore  no  stoles. 

At  the  back  stood  a  woman,  her  form  concealed 
beneath  a  long  black  robe  that  touched  the  floor  at 
her  feet.  The  robe  was  a  beautiful  work  of  art,  so 
far  as  workmanship  goes,  embroidered  with  a 
cluster  of  devils,  all  hideous,  that  were  grouped 
about  a  central  figure.  This  central  figure  repre 
sented  the  expulsion  from  Eden  of  our  first 
parents.  The  serpent,  instead  of  having  a  serpent's 
head,  carried  aloft  a  head  that  was  the  counterpart 
of  the  head  of  the  central  idol,  horns  included. 
Below  it  all  were  written  words  that  the  serpent  was 
supposed  to  say :  "  Henceforth  I  rule  forever." 
This  woman  Graham  recognized  as  Mile.  Sara. 

Now  they  broke  into  a  chant  again.     These  were 


426          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  words  they  chanted  to  music  of  a  weird  char 
acter  : 

"  O  Beelzebub,  we  bring  to  thee  ;  O  Beelzebub,  we  bring  to  thee, 
Our  worshippings.     Our  worshippings. 

That  are  our  dues  to  thee. 

Thou  art  our  all  in  all.     Thou  art  our  all  in  all ; 
To  thee  we  humbly  bow.     To  thee  we  humbly  bow, 

For  thou  to  us  art  all. 
The  gods  of  earth  are  naught  to  us  ;  The  gods  of  earth  are  naught 

to  us, 
We  acknowledge  only  thee.     We  acknowledge  only  thee. 

No  other  power  we  know. 

O,  Beelzebub,  we  bring  to  thee  ;  O,  Beelzebub  we  bring  to  thee, 
A  maiden  wondrous  fair.     A  maiden  wondrous  fair, 

She  thy  bride  will  be." 

As  they  chanted,  the  procession  divided,  one-half 
standing  on  either  side,  leaving  a  pathway  leading 
up  to  the  idol. 

The  dignitaries  or  officers  were  then  escorted 
to  their  places  about  the  room.  Then  followed 
some  opening  exercises,  exercises  in  which  La 
Monta,  as  Beelzebub,  read  from  the  liturgy  blasphe 
mous  invocations,  the  people  responsively  answer 
ing. 

Many  formalities  were  observed,  formalities  that 
were  tedious  to  the  prisoners  under  the  dais  of  the 
idol,  who  were  obliged  to  lie  quietly,  shifting  a 
limb  or  the  body  with  great  care  lest  they  should 
make  some  slight  noise  and  be  detected. 

Detonations  were  heard   from   Pelee  coming  at 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          427 

short  intervals  all  through  this.  These  detonations 
had  commenced  afresh  at  the  commencement  of  the 
liturgy,  but  as  it  was  finished  a  terrible  rumbling 
came,  one  lasting  a  full  half  minute.  The  earth 
seemed  to  vibrate  from  its  very  foundations,  shak 
ing  the  building  and  causing  a  rattling  of  vases  set 
about  the  room,  and  a  jarring  of  glass.  A  heavy 
glass  panel  from  the  dome  directly  over  the  idol  fell, 
striking  the  outstretched  hand  of  Beelzebub,  and 
dropping  in  a  thousand  shimmering  pieces  over  the 
pall  of  the  dais. 

Feminine  shrieks  were  heard  about  the  room, 
while  a  groan  here  and  there  told  of  masculine 
fright.  A  silence  fell  upon  the  assembly.  La 
Monta  arose. 

"  Fear  not,  my  beloved  adherents  of  the  faith," 
he  said.  "  Fear  not,  I  say,  yonder  Pelee  approves  of 
our  ceremony,  sending  forth  its  sulphurous-scented 
breath  and  its  mighty  roarings  that  shake  the  island 
we  favor  with  our  presence.  Lucifer  himself  joins 
with  his  favor  and  approval.  Fear  not  then  the 
voices  from  the  infernal  regions." 

In  contrast  to  La  Monta's  interpretation  of  the 
action  of  Pelee,  Graham  whispered  in  Olive's  ear, 
"  The  God  above  will  rebuke  these  scenes." 

La  Monta's  words  had  a  quieting  effect  and  he 
was  able  to  begin  the  ceremonies  of  the  occasion. 
He  rapped  with  his  gavel  and  called  out : 


428          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

"  Ye  priests  of  the  Powers  of  Darkness,  as 
semble." 

Footfalls  told  those  under  the  idol  that  his  man 
date  was  being  obeyed.  A  dozen  men  in  robes  of 
red  and  red  caps  assembled  in  front  of  the  idol, 
facing  it.  Priests  recited  the  black  creed.  Slowly 
and  in  a  singsong  tone  they  chanted  a  travesty  of 
the  words  of  the  Catholic  Creed,  naming  the  devils 
as  supreme  by  right  of  priority  and  the  number  of 
constituents.  It  was  awful.  Graham  could  hardly 
suppress  a  groan.  He  wanted  then  and  there  to 
come  forth  and  denounce  them  all  as  idolators  and 
liars,  but  fear  for  Olive  and  himself  prevented. 

Attendants  brought  forth  silver  vessels.  They 
were  the  same  that,  pillaged  from  the  churches  of 
France,  had  done  service  at  the  banquet  following 
Durand's  initiation  in  Paris.  "  We  will  proceed  to 
the  Black  Mass,"  announced  the  potentate.  Surely 
they  would  not  imitate  the  White  or  Christian  Mass 
of  the  Catholic  Church  Graham  asked  himself,  but 
he  was  mistaken,  for  this  was  exactly  what  they 
did.  They  all  assembled  and  stood  in  front  of 
the  idol,  while  the  imps  in  priestly  garb  distributed 
something  from  these  pillaged  vessels,  whose  pur 
pose  was  being  outraged. 

Graham  and  Olive  were  both  of  deep  religious 
convictions.  To  lie  quietly  and  hear  the  holy  offices 
of  the  Christian  faith  made  a  mockery  gave  them  a 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          429 

strong  feeling  of  repugnance.  Yet  they  were 
powerless  to  do  otherwise  than  listen.  How  long, 
they  asked  themselves,  would  this  continue,  how 
long  before  they  might  escape? 

It  was  now  past  midnight,  Graham  saw  as  he 
consulted  his  watch,  by  the  light  that  came  through 
the  aperture  in  the  hall.  Surely  ere  long  this  sin 
ful  celebration  must  run  its  course  and  cease. 

Again  they  heard  the  voice  of  La  Monta.  What 
he  said  gave  them  an  inkling  of  the  real  purpose 
of  the  meeting. 

"  Fellow  adherents  of  the  faith,"  he  said,  "  from 
all  the  world  we  have  come.  Of  every  clime  and 
country  we  are  representative.  Nor  is  our  mission 
here  one  of  sight-seeing  and  pleasure,  although  this 
wonderful  island  wherein  we  have  erected  our  chief 
monument  to  the  Powers  of  Darkness  is  one  of 
beauty  and  its  grandeur  worthy  of  praise.  Our 
mission  here  carries  with  it  a  duty  to  the  Evil  One. 
Remiss  indeed  would  we  be  if  we  performed  not 
that  duty. 

"  The  order  of  Satanists  is  not  of  recent  date. 
Far  from  it.  The  God  whom  the  world  worships  has 
furnished  His  followers  with  accounts  of  Himself, 
dating  back  to  that  time  in  history  when  on  the 
plains  of  Babylon  civilized  man  built  cities  and 
wrote  his  name  on  history's  page.  Demonology 
antedates  this  by  centuries.  Established  throughout 


430          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

the  world  are  temples  wherein  we  worship,  yet  there 
is  only  one  central  temple  which,  erected  by  the  ad 
herents  of  our  creed,  furnishes  us  with  a  retreat 
to  which  we  may  repair  once  in  a  decade,  coming 
from  all  parts  of  the  world,  there  to  enjoy  and 
participate  in  those  rites  that  Beelzebub  exacts,  rites 
that  carry  with  them  sacrifices  and  ceremonies  pleas 
ing  to  him. 

"  The  first  participants  taught  and  indeed  prac 
ticed  a  great  sacrifice.  They  believed,  and  this  be 
lief  has  not  been  entirely  eliminated,  that  to  please 
his  Majesty,  the  Devil,  the  sacrificing  of  human  life 
was  essential.  An  important  English  colonizer  and 
explorer,  when  in  the  captivity  of  the  North 
American  Indians,  indited  a  letter  to  his  friends  in 
which  he  gives  a  minute  description  of  the  sacrifice 
of  an  Indian  child  to  the  devil  spirit.  This  is  but 
an  additional  proof  of  my  assertion  that  human 
life  was  offered  to  Beelzebub  until  the  modern  laws 
of  nations  interfered  and  prevented  it. 

"  This  does  not  prevent  us  from  substituting  a 
most  beautiful  ceremony  in  its  place.  If  then  we 
can  no  longer  please  Beelzebub  with  the  sacrifice 
of  human  life,  we  will  substitute  something  that 
we  hope,  aside  from  being  beautiful,  may  be  ac 
ceptable.  Thus  was  instituted  the  marriage  that 
now  will  follow,  and  which  we  are  here  assembled 
to  witness. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          431 

"  Every  decade,  upon  the  recommendation  of  the 
potentate,  a  beautiful  maiden  is  chosen  for  the 
Devil's  bride,  and  we  assemble  here  to  witness  the 
ceremony,  a  ceremony  that  may  seem  empty  to  the 
neophite  or  uninitiated,  but  to  the  true  follower  of 
the  faith  is  commemorable  and  dutiful.  An  inter 
mission  will  now  be  given,  after  which  the  marriage 
will  be  celebrated." 

After  the  intermission  the  priests  were  again 
assembled  and  given  orders.  They  were  to  pre 
pare  all  things  and  then  notify  the  bride  that  all 
was  ready  and  escort  her  before  the  idol.  The 
preparation  of  arrangements  consisted  in  bringing 
several  paper  screens  and  putting  them  down  in  a 
place  hard  by.  This  was  done  ceremoniously  and 
in  order.  Then  they  repaired  to  without  the  main 
room.  For  a  few  minutes  all  was  silent. 

Suddenly  the  peals  of  a  wedding  march  broke 
forth  and  announced  the  bridal  procession.  In 
they  came.  First,  two  priests  escorting  Mile.  Sara, 
rechristened  Lillith,  the  Devil's  Bride.  After  them 
followed  a  dozen  priests  coming  two  by  two.  They 
marched  around  the  room  twice  to  the  notes  of 
the  wedding  march  and  finally  stopped  in  front  of 
the  representation  of  Beelzebub.  They  had  now 
come  for  the  marriage.  When  first  they  entered 
before,  escorting  Lillith,  it  was  only  that  she  might 


432          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

be  inspected.  Evidently  the  inspection  pleased,  for 
now  the  marriage  was  to  take  place. 

Our  friends  in  concealment  again  shifted  their 
positions  and  looked  upon  Sara.  Before  her  robe 
had  been  black.  Now  it  was  of  pure  white,  the 
garb  of  innocence  and  purity.  It  was  trimmed  with 
white  lace  and  gold  embroidery,  and  was  a  thing  of 
marvelously  wrought  beauty. 

Sara  looked  indeed  a  bride.  In  spite  of  her  years 
she  had  preserved  a  freshness  of  skin  that  belied  her 
years.  Her  blonde  hair  as  a  background  to  the 
spirited  bright  eyes,  and  slightly  aquiline  nose  gave 
her  face  a  setting  of  wondrous  beauty. 

The  priests  again  broke  out  in  a  chant  in  which 
they  extolled  the  virtue  and  beauty  of  the  bride, 
and  hoped  she  might  be  acceptable. 

Then  the  mockery  of  a  marriage  took  place,  a 
mockery  that  carried  with  it  ridicule.  La  Monta 
acted  as  interlocutor  while  a  priest  acted  as  sponsor 
for  the  inert  idol  of  Beelzebub,  Mile.  Sara,  for  her 
part  answering  audibly  and  with  promptness. 

This  ceremony  was  long  and  most  tedious  to  the 
prisoners.  After  it  was  over  La  Monta  announced 
that  Beelzebub  would  now  view  the  bride.  He  ex 
plained  that  this  procedure  prescribed  that  the 
bride  bare  her  person  before  the  idol.  The  opaque 
screens  were  set  up  in  a  square  about  Sara  or  Lillith, 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          433 

so  that  they  completely  hid  her  from  the  eyes  of 
those  present. 

Then  came  the  command,  "  Disrobe." 

After  La  Monta's  command  there  was  silence;  for 
some  minutes  nothing  could  be  heard  save  the  dis 
tant  rumblings  from  Pelee.  Finally  the  command 
was  given  for  the  bride  to  don  her  robe.  Then  the 
screens  were  removed  and  Mile.  Sara  stood  smiling 
as  she  listened  to  the  hand  clapping  and  plaudits  of 
the  audience. 

La  Monta  himself  led  the  procession  that  came 
and  congratulated  her,  some  one  hundred  in  all,  as 
near  as  Graham  could  judge. 

When  the  line  had  passed,  the  priests  resumed 
their  line  of  march  and  escorted  Sara  out  of  the 
room. 

La  Monta  congratulated  all  on  the  happy  and  suc 
cessful  ending  of  the  rites.  "  We  regret,"  he  said, 
"  that  we  have  no  banquet  hall  here  in  which  to 
celebrate  the  wedding  feast,  but  nevertheless  we 
have  decided  to  hold  the  feast  here  in  the  very  room 
wherein  took  place  the  marriage,"  and  with  great 
unction  he  ceremoniously  closed  the  conclave. 
28 


434          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

As  Mile.  Sara  stood  before  the  idol,  her  face 
took  on  a  radiance  that  was  not  entirely  natural. 
Not  that  she  thoroughly  enjoyed  her  position  in  this 
mocking  ceremony.  She  had  little  heart  in  the 
matter.  It  was  not  love  for  the  cause  that  accounted 
for  her  participation.  In  Paris  she  had  told  Du- 
rand  that  it  paid  well,  and  bought  the  rich  dresses 
and  jewels,  so  dear  to  her  heart.  But  the  conscious 
ness  of  the  presence  of  the  jewels  on  her  person,  of 
the  rich  robe  she  wore  or  the  distinction  of  being 
honored  in  the  ceremony  furnished  not  the  inspi 
ration  for  the  smile.  In  this  instance  her  smile 
was  one  of  exultation.  She  believed  by  this  time 
Durand  had  met  his  fate,  that  he  was  dead  as  the 
result  of  the  snake's  bite. 

We  have  shown  in  the  foregoing  chapters  that  in 
her  expressions  of  love  for  Olive  she  possessed  wo 
manly  instincts.  True  she  did,  yet  within  her  was 
contained  a  vindictive  impulse  that  would  not  hesi 
tate  to  mete  even  worse  destruction  upon  her  enemy 
than  she  had  planned  for  the  man  who  had  cast  her 
off,  who  had  referred  to  her  shame  in  the  presence 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          435 

of  other  men.  So  she  smiled.  By  this  time  Durand 
must  be  dead.  Why  not  smile?  She  had  shown 
him  how  love  could  be  turned  into  intense  hate. 
But  Sara  had  reckoned  only  on  her  own  power  and 
cunning  in  planning  Durand's  death.  She  had  not 
reckoned  with  the  true  God  whom  she  reviled,  the 
God  who  said,  "  Vengeance  is  mine.  I  will  repay." 
Aye  and  who  would  repay  swiftly  and  who  would, 
beside  interfering  with  her  plans  for  Durand's 
death,  execute  other  plans  that  did  include  him,  her 
self,  and  the  unrighteous  mob  that  were  assembled 
in  Satan's  temple  that  night. 

Durand  was  in  prison  in  the  town's  Bastile  down 
by  the  roadstead.  Neither  Mr.  Penticost  nor  Gra 
ham  had  been  informed  of  the  fact,  yet  the  processes 
of  French  law  had  begun  to  work  and  he  was  appre 
hended.  That  very  afternoon  he  had  been  sum 
moned  to  the  door  of  his  room  by  a  French  police 
officer.  The  officer  wished  him  to  come  along  with 
him.  He  did  not  fully  understand  but  without  noise 
or  demonstration  went  along.  None  about  the  hotel 
knew  or  suspected  the  meaning  of  the  officer's  pres 
ence,  save  the  manager  who  had  directed  him  to 
Durand's  door,  and  he  refrained  from  mentioning 
the  fact  to  the  others. 

Mile.  Sara  missed  him  at  the  dinner  that  night. 
She  missed  him  at  the  temple's  ceremonies.  It  was 
a  fact  that  since  he  had  seen  Olive  and  forsaken 


436          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Sara,  he  had  paid  little  attention  to  the  Satanists. 
Yet  she  expected  he  would  surely  witness  the  clos 
ing  ceremonies  of  the  Black  Mass  and  the  mar 
riage.  Her  eyes  sought  the  throng  about  the  room. 
He  was  not  there;  it  was  past  midnight.  Hence 
he  must  have  retired  and  met  his  death  before  this. 

The  officers  at  the  Bastile,  as  well  as  the  one  who 
arrested  him,  gave  Durand  no  information  as  to 
why  he  had  been  taken  in  custody. 

Graham  might  be  dead,  he  thought,  or  if  alive 
he  might  have  charged  him  with  attempt  to  murder. 
He  had  accompanied  the  officer  from  the  hotel  and 
through  the  street  a  little  way  without  exciting  much 
attention,  yet  a  prisoner  will  always  draw  the  at 
tention  of  the  morbidly  curious,  and  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  Pelee's  feats  had  driven  the  people  from 
the  streets,  at  sight  of  Durand  in  the  custody  of  an 
officer  they  flocked  out  and  followed  in  the  trail 
of  the  custodian  of  the  law  and  his  prisoner.  That 
he  should  be  hauled  through  the  streets  with  a  jeer 
ing  mob  at  his  heels  was  not  pleasing  to  Durand. 
He  was  furious  in  fact.  He  fairly  boiled  inwardly. 
He  vowed  that  if  Graham  was  not  dead  he  should 
die  on  sight  when  they  met.  Such  indignities  to 
himself  would  not  go  unpunished. 

He  was  incarcerated  in  a  cell  of  the  broad,  one- 
storied  bastile.  The  cell  was  not  over  small,  and 
would  afford  him  room  to  move  about,  he  had 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          437 

noticed  as  he  entered.  To  be  incarcerated  long 
would  be  bad  indeed,  but  the  cell  was  fairly  pleas 
ant,  with  its  two  medium  sized  windows  that  over 
looked  a  court,  yet  he  did  not  intend  it  as  an  abiding 
place  for  a  great  while. 

It  was  nearly  nightfall  when  he  heard  the  click 
of  the  lock  that  closed  him  inside.  So  he  had  not 
long  to  wait  for  the  dinner,  a  meal  that  he  admitted 
to  himself  was  not  so  bad  for  such  a  place.  This 
was  his  comment,  as  he  sorted  it  over  a  bit  and  ate 
what  pleased  his  fancy.  He  was  not  cast  down  in 
spirit.  On  the  contrary  he  was  angry.  His  in 
domitable  courage  and  mastery  of  intrigue  had  res 
cued  him  from  predicaments  before.  It  would 
again;  why  worry.  Yet  to  be  hauled  through 
the  streets  with  the  bawling  rabble  at  one's  heels 
would  ruffle  most  tempers.  When  he  should  be 
tried  or  released,  yes  or  even  escape  he  would  find 
the  instigator  of  this  outrage  and  punish  him  accord 
ingly.  Why  not  eat  then  and  be  comfortable?  He 
was  sure  he  would  escape  the  consequences  por 
tended  by  this  arrest. 

He  asked  for  papers.  They  were  given  him.  He 
perused  them  carefully.  He  became  interested  in 
the  reports  of  Pelee,  both  as  a  news  item  and  editor 
ial.  The  latter  prayed  that  good  judgment  rather 
than  excitement  prevail,  and  that  the  exodus  might 
cease.  The  editorial  finished  thus :  "  These  same 


438          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

people  who  now  fly  from  the  city  will  return  in  a 
few  days  and  be  the  brunt  of  jokes  aimed  at  their 
timidity." 

"  This  is  my  idea,"  said  Durand  aloud.  "  Pelee 
will  do  little  harm  further  than  cover  the  city  with 
ashes." 

He  asked  for  a  light.  A  lamp  was  furnished 
him.  As  it  grew  dark  he  lighted  it  and  finished  the 
paper,  after  which  he  smoked  calmly  until  bedtime. 
He  loosed  his  clothes,  and  in  spite  of  the  havoc  the 
earthquake  had  wrought  and  the  falling  ash  outside, 
retired.  Plans  for  escape  formulated  themselves  in 
his  mind,  and  when  these  were  perfected,  he  dropped 
to  sleep. 

At  six  thirty  next  morning  he  heard  the  turning 
of  a  key  in  the  lock.  It  awoke  him  in  fact.  He 
started  up  on  his  elbow  and  saw  the  attendant  with 
his  breakfast. 

"  Say,"  he  asked,  "  rather  early  hours  you  keep 
do  you  not?  " 

His  bantering  remarks  made  the  attendant  relax 
his  usual  vigilance  and  made  him  more  congenial 
than  was  his  wont  with  prisoners. 

"  Yes,  but  you  will  get  used  to  it  if  you  are  with 
us  long.  Our  habits  are  very  easy  to  drop  into, 
especially  when  one  has  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  I  see,"  said  Durand,  "  one  here  has  so  little 
to  do  they  merely  wait  for  the  prison  routine  to 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          439 

drive  dull  care  away.  Sit  down.  I  will  arise,  and 
by  the  way,  will  give  you  a  small  tip  for  remem 
bering  me  with  a  breakfast." 

Remembering  him  with  a  breakfast  indeed, 
thought  the  attendant.  Here  was  a  gentleman  who 
did  not  know  that  it  was  the  prison  custom  that 
the  attendants  feed  the  prisoners.  He  could  not 
stay  now.  He  had  duties  elsewhere,  but  with  a  tip 
in  view  he  could  find  time  to  come  back  soon,  so  he 
answered,  "  I  cannot  stay  now,  but  while  the  gen 
tleman  arises  I  will  go  about  other  duties  and  later 
return." 

"  All  right,"  answered  Durand,  "  but  one  thing 
first,"  as  he  glanced  about  the  room,  not  noting  what 
he  sought,  "  I  would  like  a  basin,  some  water  and  a 
towel." 

The  man  looked  surprised.  "  All  right,  tho'  you 
are  the  first  prisoner  here  in  more  than  a  year  who 
has  asked  for  these  articles,"  and  he  withdrew. 

Later  he  returned  with  the  articles  Durand  had 
requested. 

"  Come  back  soon,"  Durand  called  out,  as  he 
again  withdrew. 

Durand  ere  he  slept  that  night  had  planned  cer 
tain  things.  He  might  have  executed  them  now,  but 
deferred  it  until  he  had  breakfasted.  He  wished, 
when  he  executed  these  plans,  to  have  command  of 
all  the  judgment  he  could  summon,  and  as  judgment 


440          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

is  the  child  and  the  product  of  philosophy,  and  man 
is  only  a  philosopher  when  his  stomach  is  full,  he 
would  eat  first,  and  when  the  guard  returned  exe 
cute  these  plans. 

He  performed  his  ablutions  leisurely  and  sat 
down  to  eat.  He  ate  leisurely  and  again  sorted  over 
his  food  with  great  care,  relishing  the  parts  that 
pleased  him,  also  the  excellent  cup  of  coffee  pro 
vided.  He  commented  "  This  is  a  Martinique 
prison  is  it  ?  Well  so  far  the  fare  is  passable  and  the 
discipline  not  rigid.  If  the  guards  are  as  lax  in 
vigilance  as  the  place  is  in  discipline  I  shall  easily 
escape." 

As  he  finished  eating,  the  attendant  returned. 
He  came  inside,  closed  the  door  after  him,  and 
locked  it  with  a  key,  assorted  from  several  attached 
to  a  ring  he  took  from  his  pocket.  Then  he  de 
posited  this  bunch  of  keys  again  in  this  same  pocket, 
Durand  watching  him  meanwhile  closely.  The 
guard,  unmindful  of  the  intentions  of  the  other, 
failed  to  notice  he  was  closely  observed. 

Durand  arose,  shook  himself  leisurely,  reached 
in  his  pocket  for  the  tip  he  had  promised.  He 
sorted  out  a  five  franc  piece  and  took  a  step  nearer 
the  guard.  He  extended  the  hand  in  which  he  held 
the  coin.  "  Here  my  good  man,"  he  said,  "  I 
would  pay  you  for  your  trouble  and  attention." 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          441 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  attendant  almost  glee 
fully,  as  he  reached  for  the  coin. 

Purposely  Durand  let  it  slip  and  fall  to  the  floor. 
The  other  stooped  and  picked  it  up.  As  he  arose, 
Durand,  on  the  alert  for  this  particular  opportunity, 
dealt  him  a  powerful  blow  on  the  end  of  the  jaw. 

The  guard,  not  dreaming  that  he  was  to  be  at 
tacked,  could  not  ward  off  this  blow.  He  was 
taken  unawares.  He  reeled,  as  a  groan  escaped  his 
lips,  and  fell  prostrate  to  the  stone  floor  where  he 
lay  quiet,  save  for  a  twitching  of  the  muscles  of 
his  arms  and  legs. 

The  master  of  the  situation  then  worked  lively. 
He  rolled  the  unfortunate  guard  on  his  face  and 
took  the  towel  and  securely  bound  his  hands  behind 
his  back.  Then  from  his  own  pocket  he  took  a 
handkerchief,  folded  it  cornerwise  and  tied  a  knot 
in  the  center.  He  placed  the  knot  in  the  man's 
mouth  to  prevent  an  outcry,  and  securely  tied  the 
ends  of  the  handkerchief  at  the  nape  of  his  neck. 
The  man's  pockets  next  demanded  his  attention. 
He  extracted  the  keys  and  after  trying  several, 
came  upon  the  one  he  sought.  It  unlocked  the  cell 
door  and  out  he  walked  into  the  corridor.  Follow 
ing  it  along,  he  found  the  door  through  which  he  had 
entered  the  day  before,  the  one  leading  to  the  street. 
Again  he  sought  the  keys  and  again  found  the 
proper  one.  A  moment  later,  he  was  in  the  street, 


442          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

treading  his  way  through  several  inches  of  ash  and 
cinders  toward  the  Plaza. 

He  had  formulated  plans  for  the  future.  He 
needed  a  harbor  for  the  next  few  days,  while  these 
plans  were  being  carried  out.  He  liked  not  the  idea 
of  further  wrestling  with  the  law.  His  escape  would 
be  noted,  and  he  would  be  sought.  He  had  not 
given  up  Olive  yet.  He  would  yet  possess  her. 
For  the  present  he  wanted  a  place  of  safety  away 
from  the  city's  police.  No  better  place  than  the 
Temple  of  Satan  was  available.  He  would  go 
there.  The  attendants  there  would  bring  his  food, 
and  he  might  sleep  on  the  divans.  The  solitude 
would  be  good  for  thought,  and  from  there  he  could 
dictate  the  fulfillment  of  his  schemes.  No  Martin 
ique  official  would  look  for  him  there.  The  out 
lines  of  these  future  plans,  for  a  foreground,  were 
made  up  of  Olive  and  an  escape  with  her  from  the 
Island,  leaving  his  enemies,  Mile.  Sara  and  Gra 
ham,  behind. 

It  was  now  time  for  daylight.  Indeed  the  dark 
ness  of  night  had  given  away  to  a  gloom  scarcely 
less  dense.  The  light  could  not  penetrate  the  ash 
laden  air  to  any  extent,  and  so  the  day  was  but  little 
lighter  than  the  night,  sufficient,  however,  for  him 
to  trace  his  way  about. 

At  the  Plaza,  he  repaired  to  his  room,  packed 
a  valise,  came  down,  told  the  clerk  he  would  be  away 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          443 

for  a  few  days  only,  walked  out  into  the  gloom, 
through  avenues  of  ash  laden  trees  that  looked  like 
gray  ghosts  of  their  former  selves,  and  finally,  to 
the  Temple  of  Satan. 

He  walked  into  the  hallway,  and  hearing  a  com 
motion  in  the  inner  room  of  the  Temple,  passed  on 
to  this  room.  He  gave  the  secret  word  that  entitled 
him  to  admittance  and  stepped  inside.  He  was  sur 
prised  at  what  he  saw. 

He  knew  that  the  night  previous  had  been  set 
apart  for  the  most  important  ceremonies,  cere 
monies  that  he  had  hoped  to  witness,  but  by  the  in 
terposition  of  the  law  had  missed.  But  he  did  not 
think  he  would  be  there  in  time  to  partake  of  or 
witness  anything  that  might  occur.  He  looked 
about  a  moment,  and  then  murmured,  "  All  are  here 
yet  and  mostly  drunken  too." 

This  was  what  he  saw.  Large  tables,  with  left 
over  viands,  save  those  that  lay  scattered  about  the 
room,  where  evidently  they  had  fallen  when  some 
bibulous  person  had  used  them  as  a  missile,  a  cloth 
blotched  with  wine  and  a  general  scene  of  pande 
monium.  About  the  room  was,  we  might  say, 
strewn  an  hundred  people,  hardly  a  sober  one  in  the 
lot,  sitting  on  chairs,  with  bent  heads  and  mumbling 
lips,  uttering  incoherent  French,  that  might,  had  it 
been  intelligible  have  meant  that  some  former 
speaker  of  two  hours  earlier  perhaps  "  was  a  jolly 


444          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

good  fellow,"  he,  this  speaker,  being  the  last  one 
they  could  remember.  Others  lay  about  on  the 
floor,  yelling  or  singing  as  the  absinthe  had  left  the 
mood,  women  as  well  as  men  in  this  condition. 

Those  who  yet  comprehended  took  notice  of  Du- 
rand's  entrance.  A  drunken  cry  of  welcome  escaped 
their  lips. 

"  Durand,  Durand,"  they  shouted. 

With  those  yet  seated  at  the  table  was  Mile.  Sara. 
She  did  not  see  Durand  enter,  but  at  the  cry  of  his 
name  looked  toward  the  entrance  door.  Her  eyes 
burned  like  fire,  her  face  was  flushed  with  wine, 
yet  as  she  saw  him  she  thought  him  a  ghost  in  the 
gray  of  this  awful  morning,  come  back  to  tantalize 
her.  The  hand  with  which  she  lifted  the  goblet  of 
wine  faltered  and  shook.  She  looked  again.  It 
was  he  and  in  the  flesh.  Was  he  immune  against 
the  poisonous  serpent,  or  had  Le  Tosco  weakened? 
Le  Tosco  could  be  relied  upon.  Why,  then,  was  not 
her  enemy  dead  ? 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          445 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  unwilling  captives,  Graham  and  Olive,  had 
spent  the  night  under  the  idol.  Their  cramped  posi 
tion  caused  aching  limbs  and  suffering,  from  which 
little  relief  was  given,  as  they  could  not  with  safety 
move  themselves.  They  were  both  very  weary 
when  they  sought  this  place  as  a  refuge.  Yet  they 
had  had  no  rest,  no  relaxation  since  they  entered 
here.  Mental  worry  is  more  fatiguing  than  any 
amount  of  physical  hardship,  and  the  two  com 
bined  was  what  they  experienced  on  this  dark  morn 
ing,  as  Durand  entered  the  temple.  About  ten  hours 
had  passed  since  first  they  placed  themselves  under 
the  pall  covering  of  the  dais,  hours  awful  and  full 
of  fear. 

These  ten  hours  of  fear  and  suffering  had  left 
Graham  more  completely  unnerved  than  was  Olive. 
He  was  recovering  from  a  wound  administered  by 
the  man  who  had  just  received  such  vociferous 
greetings,  and  the  day  before  was  the  first  on  which 
he  had  ventured  into  the  city.  He  had  borne  up 
bravely  through  the  ordeal  of  the  night,  but  the  ter 
rorizing  things  which  they  had  witnessed  had  al- 


446          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

most  unnerved  him  and  he  had  become  very  un 
easy.  He  mastered  this  for  a  time,  but  again  when 
a  fit  of  restlessness  came  over  him  he  rolled  about 
considerably  and  Olive  put  forth  a  restraining  hand 
once  or  twice  and  kept  him  from  making  their  pres 
ence  known.  As  it  was,  he  made  so  much  noise 
that  had  the  outsiders  been  sober,  they  would  surely 
have  detected  them. 

The  banquet  had  been  more  drunken,  and  riotous, 
more  lascivious  than  the  one  given  in  Durand's 
honor  in  Paris.  Hilarity  flowed  rampant  with  the 
wine.  Lusty  voices  shouted  loudly.  Praises  to 
Beelzebub  were  sung,  the  chants  of  the  evening  cere 
monies  were  repeated.  These  gave  way  often  to 
rollicking  songs  of  obscenity  that  should  have 
put  to  the  blush  every  one  present,  but  it  did 
not.  The  only  blushes  recorded  came  to  those  hid 
den  under  the  idol.  They  heard  God's  name  pro 
faned  and  reviled.  They  heard  Satan  extolled  in 
praise.  They  heard  the  Black  Creed  repeated  in  a 
unison  that  ended  in  a  screech. 

It  was  little  wonder  that  after  his  wound  and  ill 
ness  Graham  should  feel  this  trial  so  keenly  as  to 
unbalance  him.  It  is  more  wonder  that  it  did  not  de 
throne  the  reason  of  both  Olive  and  himself.  Men 
and  women  have  passed  through  lesser  trials  and 
emerged  insane.  But  the  convent  life,  with  its 
simplicity  and  regular  living  had  built  up  for  Olive 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          447 

a  good  constitution,  and  Graham's  splendid  physique 
alone  had  carried  his  temporarily  weak  body 
through  this  ordeal.  His  reserve  force  had  assisted 
him  unto  this  time,  yet  now  he  was  weakening. 

During  his  movements,  once  he  came  abruptly 
against  something  hard  and  cold.  He  put  out  his 
hand  and  felt.  It  was  the  base  of  the  idol.  Then 
he  saw  a  gleam  of  light  coming  down  from  above. 
This  base  then  had  an  opening  higher  up.  Yes,  he 
found  it.  This  opening  was  in  the  front  of  the  idol 
and  fully  one-third  of  the  idol's  front  was  given  to 
it.  Plenty  of  room  for  a  man  to  enter  inside  this 
devil  of  iron,  if  one  were  so  disposed.  Arched  out 
of  the  idol  this  opening  had  been  left  in  its  base  for 
the  purpose  of  entering  it  and  adjusting  the  ma 
chinery  that  fed  the  chemicals  to  the  perpetual 
light  in  the  idol's  right  hand. 

Graham's  condition  was  very  much  unsettled. 
He  would  have  accepted  anything  new  or  strange 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  without  questioning  it,  in  this 
place  had  he  been  completely  himself.  Now,  with 
extreme  fatigue  upon  him,  and  with  scarcely  a 
thought  as  to  where  the  light  came  from,  he  crawled 
inside  the  idol  and  looked  upward.  The  source  of 
the  light  seemed  to  be  far  above  him.  Dazed,  he 
mechanically  felt  about.  His  hand  came  in  contact 
with  the  rungs  of  an  iron  ladder  that  extended  in 
side  the  idol.  He  ascended  slowly. 


448          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Olive  knew  that  he  had  gone  toward  the  base 
of  the  idol  and  she  followed.  As  he  started  to  as 
cend,  she  was  just  entering  beneath  him.  She 
feared  he  might  place  himself  in  harm's  way  or 
do  something  rash.  Repeatedly  he  had  sighed  so 
loudly  that  she  had  been  obliged  to  caution  him  lest 
he  betray  their  presence.  So  she  felt  that  he  needed 
her  and  she  kept  close  to  him. 

Graham  ascended  inside  the  idol  for  several  feet. 
Finally  he  discovered  the  source  of  the  light.  It 
was  merely  outside  light  shining  through  the  open 
ing  in  the  face  of  the  idol,  through  the  great  nostrils, 
and  the  awful,  sensuous  mouth.  As  he  came  to  a 
level  with  the  light,  he  applied  his  eyes  to  the  aper 
ture  and  looked  out.  Distinctly  he  saw  the  room 
as  we  have  just  described  it,  save  that  his  view  was 
less  extensive,  and  in  its  panoramic  sweep  took  in 
the  table  and  what  might  be  in  this  locality.  He  saw 
now  what  he  had  not  seen  before. 

The  human  passions,  when  aroused  intensely  to 
things  perverse,  seek  avenues  of  exemplification. 
Some  inventive  mind,  then,  was  responsible  for  the 
perverse  thing  he  saw.  It  was  this, — being  passed 
about  the  tables  were  several  human  skulls,  filled 
with  wine,  from  which  the  infamous  ones,  men  and 
women,  drank,  and  laughed  and  joked  as  they  did 
so. 

Just  then  he  heard  the  name  of  Durand  shouted. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          449 

He  came  to  himself  and  muttered,  "  What !  Du- 
rand  a  Devil  Worshipper?  It  is  a  sort  of  an  an 
cestral  worship  like  the  Chinese  with  him  I  sup 
pose."  He  saw  Mile.  Sara  next  and  noted  the  look 
of  hatred  that  overswept  her  face  at  the  sight  of 
Durand.  The  revel  that  had  abated  on  Durand's 
entrance  again  started  and  was  in  full  swing.  Du 
rand  was  plied  with  wine  and  absinthe, — many  in 
sisting  in  their  debauched  condition  on  the  honor 
of  drinking  with  him.  His  coming  imparted  im 
petus  to  the  scene,  more  songs  were  sung,  more  re- 
vilement  of  things  sacred  took  place. 

Outside  it  had  been  very  dark  and  gloomy  all  the 
early  morning,  so  much  so  that  the  great  dome  of 
glass  over  the  idol  of  Beelzebub  gave  no  light  to 
speak  of,  or  not  light  enough  so  that  the  electric 
lights  might  be  turned  off.  Of  a  sudden,  however, 
the  darkness  was  dispelled.  Light  came  to  the  city 
outside  the  temple  and  came  down  inside,  through 
its  dome.  The  ashes  too  ceased  falling.  Through 
the  aperture  made  by  the  falling  panel  earlier  in  the 
evening,  a  few  ashes  had  continually  fallen  until 
now.  They  had  fallen  over  the  pall  and  idol  until 
the  former  seemed  white  instead  of  black.  Now 
they  ceased.  The  intermittent  thundering  of  Pelee 
was  stilled.  A  gray  haze  hung  over  the  island. 
The  air  was  most  oppressive,  and  seemed  super- 
29 


450         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

charged  with  great  heat  and  humidity.  Not  a 
breath  of  air  was  astir  outside. 

Inside  the  temple  were  being  enacted  the  closing 
scenes  of  a  feast  offensive  in  the  sight  of  God, 
whose  perpetrators  he  would  no  longer  spare. 
Mockery  and  revilement  had  exceeded  the  limit  of 
Divine  grace.  Sacrilege  and  lust  had  passed  the 
stages  of  toleration.  Disgusting  and  repulsive 
things  did  the  sick  and  dazed  Graham  look  upon. 
His  mental  equilibrium  was  no  longer  perfectly 
maintained.  Incoherently  he  muttered  to  himself. 
Olive  trembled,  fearing  they  would  be  discovered. 
Only  the  wine  thus  far  had  saved  them.  What 
should  she  do  if  he  were  to  suddenly  and  completely 
lose  his  reason  and  perhaps  shout?  She  was  near 
him.  In  this  she  felt  a  degree  of  safety.  She  would 
do  all  she  could  to  quiet  him.  She  did  not  see  what 
he  saw.  It  was  well  she  did  not. 

Graham's  nerves  could  no  longer  withstand  these 
scenes.  He  must  rebuke  the  perpetrators.  This 
conclusion  came  to  his  overwrought  mind.  Clarion- 
like  his  voice  floated  out  to  the  revelers : 

"  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the 
firmament  showeth  forth  his  handiwork." 

Like  a  great  sobering  potion  it  acted.  As  if  by 
magic,  the  clamoring,  the  scenes  of  disgust  ceased. 
A  hush  like  unto  that  of  nature  outside  came  over 
the  people.  Then  a  drunken  voice  answered : 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          451 

"  It's  a  lie.    It's  a  lie." 

The  voice,  coming  from  whence  they  knew  not, 
proclaimed : 

"  Thou  shalt  have  no  other  Gods  before  me." 

"  You  lie !  You  lie !  "  again  that  debauched  voice 
made  answer. 

Olive  had  heard  Graham's  first  words.  Her  fears 
were  realized.  He  had  gone  mad.  She  must  quiet 
him  before  their  hiding  place  was  discovered.  So 
she  climbed  up  to  where  he  was. 

"  Harold,  Harold,"  she  whispered  in  his  ear.  "  If 
you  love  me,  in  the  name  of  heaven  be  quiet." 

He  paid  no  attention  to  her,  as  though  he  did  not 
hear.  Instead  he  shouted  out  the  second  procla 
mation  as  told. 

The  more  sober  men  of  the  mob  came  together 
for  consultation,  as  if  by  summons.  They  were 
dumbfounded.  From  frenzied  scenes  of  debauch 
ery  and  awf ulness,  they  had  been  subdued  by  a 
voice  that  but  proclaimed  the  name  of  the  true  God. 
In  the  beginning,  another  Voice  had  said,  "  Let  there 
be  light,"  and  out  of  chaos  came  light.  Now  the 
name  of  God,  spoken  by  a  temporarily  demented 
man,  had  changed  revelry  and  moral  chaos  into 
consternation  and  fear.  The  counsellors  briefly 
consulted.  Many  showed  great  fear,  nor  did  they 
have  any  solution  as  to  whence  came  the  voice  that 
had  mocked  them. 


452          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

They  heard  it  again. 

"  Thou  art  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found 
wanting." 

The  drunken  voice  made  no  reply  to  this.  Then 
it  came  again : 

"  All  hope  abandon  ye  who  enter  here." 

This  was  followed  by  a  hoarse  laugh  corning 
also  from  the  place  of  mystery. 

Durand  started  up.  "  Here,  here,"  he  said,  as 
he  waved  his  hand  for  silence.  "  I  know  that  voice 
and  its  source.  It  is  my  enemy's  voice,  aye,  our 
enemy's  voice,  and  comes  from  the  interior  of 
Beelzebub." 

He  jumped  toward  the  idol,  as  if  in  his  frenzy  he 
would  tear  Beelzebub  in  pieces  that  he  might  get  at 
his  enemy,  whose  voice  had  betrayed  him. 

An  hundred  people  arose  and  with  Durand 
rushed  at  the  idol, — but  they  never  reached  it. 

At  the  very  moment  they  started,  a  vast  noise, 
like  the  breaking  asunder  of  the  world,  like  the 
explosion  of  a  star,  a  noise  that  was  heard  a  half 
thousand  miles  at  sea,  deafened  them  and  cut  short 
their  onward  rush.  The  building  shook  as  if  some 
mighty  giant  had  picked  it  bodily  from  its  found 
ations  and  shaken  it  in  his  Titanic  arms.  This 
lasted  perhaps  ten  seconds,  yet  it  stopped  the  mad 
rush  of  the  Devil  Worshippers.  Great  excitement 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          453 

prevailed.  Cries  and  groans  intermingled.  Du- 
rand  sounded  again  the  slogan  of  attack. 

"  Mind  not  the  earthquake.  Take  and  kill  this 
spy  who  secretes  himself  in  the  idol." 

They  rushed  again  to  the  idol,  clamoring 
hoarsely  as  they  came  on. 

"  Vengeance  is  mine.  I  will  repay  saith  the 
Lord,"  above  the  din  was  thundered  at  them. 

Quicker  than  the  closing  of  an  eyelash,  as  sudden 
as  is  predicted  the  rolling  together  of  the  earth  as  a 
scroll  at  the  final  ending  of  time,  came  upon  them 
the  wrath  of  God, — came  to  St.  Pierre  the  devasta 
ting  fire  from  Pelee. 

Far  out  at  sea,  some  two  leagues,  was  a  ship  at  an 
chor.  Her  crew  was  busy  grappling  for  a  broken 
cable.  They  heard  the  awful  report  and  glanced 
toward  Pelee  in  time  to  see  its  side  open,  and  from 
this  opening  pour  forth  a  huge  cloud  that  was  a  mile 
high  in  an  instant.  Its  aspect  was  of  inky  black 
ness,  save  its  front  which  was  of  fire,  a  rolling, 
cloudy,  tornadic  mass  of  destruction,  through  which 
the  lightnings  darted.  It  bore  with  it  death  deal 
ing  gases  and  more  ash  that  would  enshroud  many 
a  poor  being  the  fire  would  slay.  It  represented, 
mayhap,  the  wrath  of  God  itself.  As  the  rain 
from  heaven  descends  alike  on  the  just  and  unjust, 
so  would  this  cloud  of  divine  wrath  destroy  alike 
both  saint  and  sinner. 


454          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

In  three  minutes  this  cloud  covered  the  four 
miles  from  Pelee  to  the  city.  It  went  no  further. 
Its  mission  was  completed.  St.  Pierre  was  licked 
up  in  one  mighy  swoop  of  this  death  dealing  cloud. 
The  tornadic  effect  razed  every  building,  the  gases 
killed  the  people,  and  the  fire  burned  the  over 
turned  buildings  of  stucco  and  wood,  as  well  as  the 
unfortunate  beings  whom  the  ashes  had  not  en 
tombed. 

Thus  are  chronicled  the  last  days  of  St.  Pierre 
and  her  thirty  thousand  souls. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.         455 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

CONFLAGRATION  raged  unchecked  over  the  city 
of  broken  homes,  destroyed  property,  and  its  dead 
inhabitants.  The  smoke  arose  heavenward  in  one 
gigantic  cloud.  From  the  hill  above  the  city  the 
view  would  remind  one  of  the  burning  of  Rome 
by  Nero,  or  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem.  Here 
indeed  was  inspiration  for  a  Dante.  An  area  of 
nearly  eight  square  miles  was  affected  and  all  things 
combustible  ignited.  But  all  things  bad  and  appall 
ing  must  have  an  ending.  So  the  fire  burned  out. 
At  five  P.  M.  of  this  day  it  had  almost  eaten  itself 
to  an  ending.  The  watchers  from  the  sea  and  the 
hilltops  felt  that  now  the  survivors,  if  any,  might 
escape.  Were  there  any  survivors? 

The  wall  of  the  Temple  of  Satan  exposed  to 
ward  Pelee  was  leveled  to  the  ground.  The  oppo 
site  wall  was  nearly  so.  However,  the  end  wall  was 
left  two-thirds  standing;  the  dome  over  the  idol  was 
thrown  to  the  building  next  beyond.  The  gases 
killed  the  Devil  Worshippers  and  the  ashes  drifted 


456         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

wholly  over  one-half  the  dead.  The  others  lay 
exposed  or  partially  so. 

At  about  this  hour  of  the  day,  some  nine  hours 
after  the  cataclystic  visitation,  a  man,  who  lay  un 
derneath  the  idol,  took  a  long  breath.  At  this  in 
spiration,  his  body  responded  in  a  palsied  shiver 
that  passed  o'er  him  from  head  to  foot.  In  a  half 
minute  another  breath  followed.  Again  that  shak 
ing  of  the  muscles.  He  raised  one  hand  a  bit.  It 
dropped  at  his  side.  Prostrate  and  on  his  back, 
his  breath  now  came  irregularly.  Yet  the  hand-rais 
ing  was  indicative  of  fast  returning  conscious 
ness.  For  nine  hours,  he  had  lain  as  if  dead.  Now 
the  hand  was  raised  again.  A  groan  escaped  his 
lips  as  it  fell  back.  The  hand  was  horribly  burned 
and  blistered.  This  was  why  he  groaned,  yet  per 
haps  unconscious  of  the  injury.  Now  he  breathed 
more  freely.  The  other  hand  went  up.  It  did  not 
fall  back.  It  came  over  to  the  forehead  and  ran 
down  across  his  face  Again  it  sought  his  forehead 
and  the  crown  of  the  head.  Instantly  he  sat  up. 

His  head  was  bare  of  hair,  singed  by  the  fire.  It 
was  the  first  comprehension  on  his  awakening.  In 
fact  it  awoke  him.  Then  he  opened  his  eyes.  He 
looked  at  that  hand.  It  was  intact.  He  raised  the 
other  and  winced  with  the  pain.  He  noticed  the 
sleeve  was  entirely  gone,  and  the  hand  and  arm 
horribly  burned.  The  ragged,  charred  end  of  the 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          457 

sleeve  claimed  his  attention.  He  felt  it.  The  cloth 
crumbled  in  his  hand.  He  did  not  understand. 
What  had  happened?  Where  was  he? 

Shining  in  and  around  him  was  a  dull,  red  light. 
He  was  unused  to  it.  He  gazed  upward.  His  eye 
met  the  bottom  of  an  iron  platform.  The  pall  that 
had  covered  it  was  gone,  but  he  had  forgotten  about 
the  pall.  Yet  had  the  pall  remained  it  would  have 
added  discomfort  for  he  would  have  been  in  dark 
ness.  He  put  out  his  uninjured  hand  to  the  iron 
walls  before  him.  It  was  the  base  of  the  idol  but 
he  did  not  remember  it.  He  attempted  to  arise. 
His  head  struck  the  iron  dais  above  him  and  he  sat 
down  abruptly.  Again  he  thought,  "  Where  am  I  ?  " 

The  light  he  had  noticed  was  still  there.  He 
would  go  toward  it.  He  turned  his  body  and  started 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  his  hands  penetrating  in 
ashes  a  good  foot  in  depth.  He  forged  ahead  a  half 
yard  perhaps.  His  hand  did  not  sink  as  deep  in  the 
ashes  as  before.  Instead  it  struck  something  that 
felt  different  from  the  floor.  He  cleared  away  the 
layers  of  ash.  They  were  light  and  very  loose  and 
he  had  little  trouble  in  this.  At  last  he  leaned  for 
ward  and  blew  with  his  breath  the  residue  away.  A 
woman's  face  came  to  view.  He  looked.  His  eyes 
grew  large.  Then  he  knew  where  he  was,  and  what 
had  happened.  He  cried  "  Olive,  Olive  it  is  you." 

Now  he  remembered  the  oncoming  of  the  con- 


458         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

flagration  and  the  explosion.  Now  all  was  plain. 
Yet  was  she  alive?  Had  the  ashes  stifled  the  resi 
due  of  life  after  the  first  great  shock?  His  ear 
sought  her  heart.  Yes,  it  was  beating.  The  light 
ness  of  the  ashes  had  allowed  enough  air  to  pene 
trate,  to  keep  her  alive.  Perhaps  too  it  had  kept  the 
gases  from  killing  her.  The  protecting  dais  and 
idol  had  kept  the  penetrating  wall  of  fire  from  them 
both,  and  they  lived. 

Heedless  of  the  great  burn  on  his  arm,  the  cause 
of  which  he  never  knew,  using  one  hand  in  the 
hand  and  knee  process,  with  the  other  he  dragged 
her  from  under  the  idol.  Then  he  saw  the  condition 
of  Satan's  temple,  as  he  stumbled  over  brick  and 
fallen  debris.  A  foot,  yes  in  some  places  two  and 
three  feet  of  ashes  covered  the  floor.  Some  of  the 
combustible  things  about  the  building  had  burned, 
but  here  as  in  other  places  where  the  ash  was  thickest 
it  had  served  as  a  blanket  and  prevented  the  destroy 
ing  element  from  making  headway.  What  of 
Olive?  He  shook  her.  He  shouted  at  her  without 
avail.  Fears  that  she  would  yet  die  came  over  him, 
a  numbing  feeling  such  as  he  had  experienced  when 
awakening  seized  him.  He  roused  himself  and 
threw  it  off.  He  remembered  the  banquet  the  night 
before  and  the  wine.  Yes  over  there  was  where  the 
tables  had  been.  They  were  not  to  be  seen  now. 
He  stumbled  through  the  ash  and  brick  to  the  place. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          459 

He  kicked  about  in  the  ashes  in  hopes  to  find  a 
stray  bottle  that  had  been  thrown  about  by  the  ban 
queters,  or  cast  there  by  the  tornadic  force.  His 
foot  hit  something.  He  stooped  and  felt.  It  was  a 
human  hand.  He  shuddered,  but  did  not  allow  this 
to  hinder  him  from  his  purpose.  Two  more  bodies 
did  he  discover.  At  last  his  foot  hit  something  hard. 
Was  it  a  brick  or  a  wine  bottle.  His  breath  came 
hard.  If  the  latter,  it  meant  perhaps  life  for  Olive. 
His  hand  sought  it.  It  was  a  bottle  partially  filled 
with  wine  of  the  finest  French  brand.  He  rushed 
back  to  where  she  lay,  just  at  the  edge  of  the  dais, 
over  which  the  grinning  idol  of  Beelzebub  still 
looked,  intact.  He  placed  the  bottle  to  Olive's  lips, 
and  allowed  a  few  drops  to  trickle  into  her  mouth. 
She  swallowed  it.  He  gave  her  more.  This  stim 
ulated  her,  so  that  when  he  took  her  hand  an  an 
swering  pressure  was  given  him.  Soon  her  breath 
ing,  as  had  his,  grew  stronger  and  more  frequent. 
Then  she  raised  her  hand  to  her  unopened  eyes. 
She  knew  of  some  one's  presence,  for  again  her 
hand  sought  his.  A  moment  later  she  opened  her 
eyes,  smiled  knowingly  at  him  and  again  closed 
them. 

"  God  be  praised,"  he  said  fervently.  "  She 
lives.  She  lives." 

Then  he  raised  her  to  a  sitting  posture,  and 
kneeling  himself  grasped  her  in  his  arms.  He 


460          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

kissed  her  on  the  eyes  and  mouth.  He  cried.  He 
shouted  for  joy.  Again  and  again  he  exclaimed, 
"She  lives!  She  lives!" 

Later  they  talked  of  what  had  happened.  They 
had  been  up  in  the  idol  when  the  fire  struck  the 
Temple,  and  must  have  lost  consciousness  and  fallen 
to  the  floor  below,  where  they  had  found  them 
selves.  They  looked  at  one  another.  Both  were 
ash  begrimed  and  hollow  eyed.  The  unconscious 
ness  through  which  they  had  passed  had  undoubtedly 
served  them  to  a  good  purpose.  Yet  the  ordeal  had 
been  so  strenuous  that  even  now  they  were  ex 
hausted  and  broken. 

Graham  looked  about  for  a  place  of  exit.  The 
walls  were  so  thrown  down  that  egress  would  be 
difficult  anywhere.  Yet  the  way  they  had  entered 
seemed  most  inviting.  He  surveyed  the  way  to 
the  door  that  had  formerly  led  from  the  room.  It 
presented  obstacles  in  the  way  of  debris,  and  a  pile 
of  something  else  that  on  a  more  critical  examina 
tion  he  saw  were  human  bodies,  lying  criss  cross, 
heaped  together  so  high  that  even  the  ash  had  not 
covered  them.  Some  bodies  were  charred  into 
a  calcined  mass,  blistered  and  tumefying,  the  clothes 
burned  away  from  some,  others  with  clothing  in 
tact.  The  features  of  some  were  badly  distorted, 
and  yet  others  but  a  yard  away  were  easy  of 
recognition,  proving  that  fire  had  destroyed  some, 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          461 

and  the  death-dealing  gases  accounted  for  the  death 
of  others. 

Did  he  recognize  in  this  scene  of  holocaust  any 
faces  he  knew  ?  Yes,  he  did.  The  awful  expression 
of  terror  on  the  faces  of  the  recognized  dead,  in 
delibly  pictured  itself  in  his  mind. 

He  took  Olive  by  the  hand  and  led  her  forth, 
over  the  debris  and  fallen  basalt  idols  that  had 
adorned  the  place,  past  the  rows  of  the  blistered 
dead  and  through  ashes  that  buried  more. 

By  way  of  the  long  hall  or  corridor  to  the  street, 
they  made  their  way.  What  a  revelation  and  what 
a  scene!  The  city  destroyed  or  burning,  here  and 
there  desultory  fires  told  that  the  devastation  was 
not  yet  completed.  The  trees  were  uprooted  or 
burned  in  places.  Where  the  paving  showed 
through  the  ash  it  had  melted  or  was  yet  hot  under 
their  feet.  Telegraph  and  telephone  wires  were 
down,  melted  in  pieces  or  wound  about  the  trees. 
St.  Pierre,  the  beautiful,  the  city  of  rich  parks  and 
mosaic  pavements,  of  private  scenic  gardens  so  ex 
quisite,  and  of  shady  streets,  but  withal,  the  city  of 
wicked  lusts  and  the  stronghold  of  the  Devil  Wor 
shippers,  was  no  more.  The  Biblical  tragedy  of 
Sodom  and  Gomorrah  had  been  re-enacted. 

"  God  would  not  suffer  himself  to  be  further 
mocked.  He  has  avenged  himself,"  fervently  said 
Graham. 


462          THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

Amidst  the  scenes  of  ruin,  as  if  by  mutual  consent, 
they  knelt  in  the  ashes  and  Graham  lifted  up  his 
voice,  and  thanked  God  for  their  deliverance.  Tears 
flowed  down  the  woman's  cheeks  as  they  arose. 

'  "  Harold,"  she  asked,  "  the  Abbess,  the  sisters 
and  the  dear  little  ones,  what  of  them  ?  " 

His  eye  swept  the  city's  limitations.  "  I  fear 
they  too  have  perished." 

A  great  cry,  "  Oh  mamma,  mamma,  Abbess,"  es 
caped  her,  and  she  would  have  fallen  had  not  he 
given  her  support.  In  soothing  tones,  he  calmed 
her,  yet  not  denying  that  he  thought  them  all  dead. 

"  I  fear  none  are  spared  save  us,  yet  it  is  the 
Divine  will." 

Still  weeping  she  took  from  her  bosom  the  packet 
the  Abbess  had  given  her,  containing  the  receipt 
of  her  fortune  on  deposit  at  the  bank  of  his  dead 
father  and  handed  it  to  him. 

While  yet  she  wept,  he  piloted  her  to  without  the 
city.  As  Adam  and  Eve  went  forth  to  view  the 
world  after  the  fall,  so  they  walked  forth  in  great 
-sorrow.  They  passed  over  this  way  and  that, 
through  streets  that  ran  toward  Pelee,  as  here  the 
blast  had  not  littered  the  streets,  taking  cross  streets 
only  when  practicable,  that  in  this  way  they  might 
quicker  reach  the  Fort  de  France  road. 

Graham  thought  he  would  take  Olive  to  his  home. 
She  could  not  well  object  under  the  present  circum- 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          463 

stances.  He  stopped  abruptly  in  his  thoughts.  Yes, 
there  opened  a  way.  They  could  be  married. 

They  passed  the  place  where  stood  the  Plaza 
Hotel.  Little  was  left  of  it.  Its  guests  had 
perished.  They  know  naught  of  the  serpent 
Le  Tosco,  at  Mile.  Sara's  instigation,  had  placed  in 
Durand's  bed,  but  it  too  was  dead,  for  not  a 
bird,  not  an  insect,  not  a  crawling  thing  was  left. 
The  vengeance  of  Sara  had  miscarried.  Both  she 
and  her  would-be  victim  had  paid  the  debt  to  one 
who  said,  "  Vengeance  is  mine." 

They  saw  the  ruins  of  the  cathedral,  with  but 
one  wall  now  standing.  This  wall  screened  the 
convent  from  their  view.  The  great  clock  in  the 
cathedral  had  stopped  at  two  minutes  past  eight, 
thus  marking  the  coming  of  the  cataclysm.  Graham 
bade  Olive  stand  here  a  moment.  He  passed  down 
to  the  convent.  He  mounted  the  front  wall,  and 
looked  over  at  the  ruins.  Everything  there  had 
been  incinerated.  Yet  to  satisfy  himself  that  none 
buried  there  were  yet  alive,  he  called  loudly  several 
times.  No  answer  came  back.  Smoking,  burning 
ruins  forbade  investigation.  He  looked  over  the 
garden  which  for  him  held  such  sacred  memories. 
It  was  concealed  beneath  the  white  mantle  of  ash. 
He  heaved  a  great  sigh,  and  went  back  to  Olive. 

"Did  you  see  anything;  are  all  dead?"  she 
asked. 


464         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

He  nodded. 

Together  they  shed  tears  as  they  walked  on. 
Further  down  the  burning  street  they  heard  a  groan. 
It  floated  to  their  ears  from  somewhere.  They 
paused.  Graham  had  reasoned  that  they  were 
probably  the  only  survivors,  in  fact  the  only  ones 
who  had  been  so  well  protected.  He  walked  to  a 
cellar  nearby.  The  brick  of  a  small  building  had 
been  thrown  from  its  foundation  into  the  cellar. 
No  fire  was  there.  The  groans  came  again.  He 
was  right;  they  came  from  this  cellar.  He  jumped 
down  into  it,  and  with  his  hands  dug  in  a  corner 
from  which  came  the  groans.  A  man's  body  came 
to  view,  a  native,  black  and  forbidding  of  face. 
Graham  asked  him  in  French. 

"  Do  you  too  live?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man  as  he  sat  up.  "  What 
happened?  " 

Graham  told  him. 

The  native  was  a  criminal  and  confined  in  a 
dungeon  here.  This  place  was  a  jail  or  station. 
In  spite  of  the  ordeal  through  which  he  had  passed, 
he  recovered  himself  soon,  and  Graham  assisted 
him  out  of  the  cellar,  and  the  three  started  for 
the  Fort  de  France  road. 

On  the  outskirts  of  what  had  been  the  city,  they 
came  upon  ghouls  already  at  work,  pillaging  the 
dead  who  lay  in  the  streets  and  the  houses.  No 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          465 

vigilance  committee  was  here  to  shoot  these 
marauders,  and  they  worked  on  unmolested.  They 
had  come  from  the  surrounding  country  towns 
to  prey  upon  the  dead,  as  the  scavenger  vulture 
seizes  upon  the  fallen  kid. 

At  the  city's  entrance  a  great  crowd  of  natives 
and  sightseers  were  gathered,  together  with  friends 
and  relatives  of  the  dead,  mourning  and  wailing, 
their  faces  elongated,  their  eyes  swollen,  their  cries 
extending  heavenward  in  one  mighty  wail.  Even 
the  sightseers  in  sympathy  could  not  keep  back  their 
tears. 

Eagerly  Graham  scanned  the  crowd  for  sight 
of  Best.  Surely  he  would  be  there.  Friendship 
such  as  theirs  would  bring  him  here,  as  at  least  a 
mourner  over  this  vast  funeral  pyre.  Yes  he  was 
there,  as  a  mourner.  It  cannot  be  said  he  was  in 
waiting  for  them,  or  for  Graham,  for  he  thought 
he  had  perished  with  the  city's  populace. 

He  was  there,  but  such  a  Best, — so  changed.  The 
blithe  and  gay  are  most  affected  by  grief.  He  was 
in  a  state  of  collapse.  He  had  heard  of  the 
catastrophe  of  course,  and  came  on  with  a  great 
mass  of  people  of  Fort  de  France,  who  unmindful 
of  the  ashes  yet  falling  had  come  to  this  scene  of 
earth's  greatest  modern  tragedy.  He  impressed  to 
his  service  a  horse  from  the  stable,  and  with  a  light 
wagon  hurried  on. 
30 


466         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

They  met  thus.  Graham,  Olive  and  the  convict 
were  the  object  of  much  comment  and  many 
congratulations  as  they,  the  only  survivors,  came 
out  of  the  city's  ruins,  out  of  the  jaws  of  death 
as  it  were.  The  crowd  pressed  about  them,  when 
Graham  heard  a  shout  of  joy  and  recognition  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  crowd.  He  knew  the  voice. 
Its  owner  rushed  pell  mell  through  the  crowd  and 
to  him. 

"  Thank  God,  Thank  God,"  said  Best,  as  they 
met  and  clasped  one  another's  hands. 

Poor  Best.  His  eyes  were  blood-shot,  his  face 
long  and  pale,  his  hair  disheveled,  he  was  hatless. 
Now  he  was  completely  unnerved.  His  emotional 
disposition  gave  way  to  its  idiosyncrasies.  He 
laughed,  he  wept.  "  You,  you "  he  said,  "  you 
two  are  saved." 

Later  Best  went  for  the  horse  that  was  tethered 
to  a  tree  by  the  roadside.  They  then  drove  home. 
Best,  the  intrepid,  the  loquacious,  and  ofttimes 
garrulous,  talked  incessantly  as  they  drove  onward. 
The  other  two  were  silent.  They  were  homeward 
bound,  after  an  experience  that  only  Divine  inter 
position  had  saved  from  its  almost  inevitable  conse 
quences.  Plenty  of  reason  had  Graham  for  silence. 
He  was  thinking  it  over  and  over,  and  of  Olive  and 
the  future. 

Olive's  thoughts  were  a  mixture  of  sadness  and 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          467 

uncertainty.  Her  home  was  destroyed.  Her 
friend  and  protector  through  the  years  from  child 
hood  until  now  was  dead.  Where  was  she  going? 
With  Graham  ?  Yes,  with  her  lover.  To  his  home  ? 
To  stay?  These  questions  were  unanswered. 

The  future  for  the  time  looked  blank.  All  was 
changed  for  her.  What  was  in  front  ?  As  if  for  an 
answer,  she  looked  at  Graham.  His  face  was  sad, 
yet  noble,  she  thought,  as  she  gazed  upon  it.  It 
grew  more  so  while  she  looked.  His  sober,  inspir 
ing  countenance  reassured  her.  Yes,  he  was  brave; 
he  was  good.  His  judgment  would  prevail.  She 
would  go  with  him,  to  be  with  him. 

They  came  in  sight  of  the  house  of  Graham,  the 
shingle  thatched  cottage  among  the  giant  palms,  the 
daffodils  and  magnolias.  Graham  surveyed  the 
scene.  Unmindful  of  Best's  presence,  he  took 
Olive's  hand. 

"  Home,  Olive,"  as  he  nodded  toward  it,  "  your 
home  and  mine." 

Turning  to  Best,  he  said,  "  Who  are  those  people 
there  on  the  porch?  A  man  and  a  woman  I 
think." 

"  Oh,"  said  Best,  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you  of  them. 
They  are  refugees  from  St.  Pierre  who  came  along 
last  night  and  applied  for  shelter,  a  man  and  wife, 
Protestant  Missionaries  from  the  States.  I  asked 
them  to  stay  until  I  returned.  So  thoughtful  of 


468         THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER. 

me  wasn't  it,  for  the  minister  will  earn  his  keep 
while  here." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Graham,  not  understanding. 

"  How  ?  Why  he  can  officiate  at  the  wedding. 
Why  not?  No  outside  interference  will  be  neces 
sary.  I  will  be  Best  man,  with  accent  on  the  best, 
see;  the  clergyman's  wife  bridesmaid,  and  the  bride 
can  give  herself  away." 

"  A  good  suggestion,"  said  Graham,  as  Olive 
blushingly  surveyed  the  giant  palms. 

***** 

On  the  porch  behind  the  screens  a  week  later  the 
wedding  did  take  place.  The  smoke  from  Pelee 
had  partially  disappeared.  The  earth  and  nature 
were  again  harmonious,  and  the  daffodils  and  the 
magnolias,  moved  by  the  sweet  scented  Southern 
trade  winds,  looked  on  and  nodded  approvingly. 

Four  years  later.  It  was  again  the  month  of 
May.  Luxuriant  flowers  surrounded  the  cot 
tage  of  the  Grahams'.  The  man  of  the  house 
was  just  returning  from  the  seaport,  where  he  had 
been  to  meet  a  visitor  from  the  States,  one  Best 
by  name.  A  carriage  stopped  at  the  gate.  A  wo 
man,  with  dark  clear  skin  and  eyes  of  midnight  hue, 
took  the  hand  of  her  son,  a  toddler  of  nearly  two 
years'  existence,  and  came  down  the  walk  between 
the  flowers  to  greet  her  guests, — Olive  and  her  son. 


THE  DEVIL  WORSHIPPER.          469 

Olive  greeted  Best  warmly,  while  Graham  smiled 
approvingly  at  her. 

"  I  bring  you  good  tidings,"  he  said.  "  For  four 
years  I  have  sought  to  unearth  the  places  where 
Durand  had  deposited  your  fortune.  I  have  done 
this.  I  bring  to  you  receipts  for  a  sum  that  is  al 
most  fabulous." 

"  A  new  Convent  shall  be  built  on  this  island,"  she 
said  in  measured  tones,  "  built  to  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  the  dead  Abbess  whom  I  loved  so 
dearly." 

Best  picked  up  the  boy.  "  Your  name,  sir?  "  he 
asked,  as  he  tossed  him  far  above  his  head. 

The  boy  replied  promptly,  "  Franklin  Best  Gra 
ham." 

Best  put  him  down  and  looked  at  him.  "  It  is 
well,  sir,  that  you  were  named  for  me.  To  me 
you  owe  your  existence,  to  my  inventive  mind,  my 
kites,  and  the  fact  that  I  corralled  a  minister  to 
marry  your  parents.  Franklin  Best  Graham  you 
are  a  brick.  I  can  see  it  in  your  eye." 

"  He  will  be  if  he  lives  up  to  his  name,"  said  the 
father,  as  the  happy  quartette  moved  up  the  path 
between  the  foliage,  to  the  screen-covered  porch. 


j$jt$n£j$jt$ji$  t$Ji$  <& 

I  PATHS  CROSSING! 

^  A    ROMANCE    OF    THE    PLAINS  j| 

By  MAUDE  CLARK  GAY  -g> 

xi  Author  of  "  The   Knitting   of   the   Souls"  cz, 

Jz^  There  is  in  this  story  such  a  thread  of  "^ 

beauty  and  power,  the  magic  of  its  style 

<§}  is  so  rare,  so  sweet,  that  its  laurels  must  {§> 

<£>}  grow  brighter  with  the  passing  of  time.  {§> 

W  f — | — \VVO  Eastern  girls, — orphans  and  sisters, —    3=f 

j^  go  to  Oklahoma  to  teach  in  the  Indian  "^ 
schools.    The  romance  of  their  beauty,  the   Tx 

«§-  "^        tragedy  of  their  love  for  the  same  man,  the  {§> 

<Q-  serpent  trail  of  his  past,  heroic  sacrifice,  revenge,   -£S 

XL  despair,  triumph, — all  these  strands  are  woven  with    r^ 

1?  the  sure  touch  of  the  master  hand  into  a  tale  of  in-    ;=f 

<~-4-  -/-*> 

"g    tense  dramatic  fire  and  pathos  and  beauty.  jrrT 

STHE  GOLDEN  WEST! 

•§}  The    author   has   lived   her   Golden   West, — the  {§* 

<§-  glory,  the  color,  the  freedom  of  this  land  of  en-  -£*> 

<^i  chantment  are  painted   as  she  has  seen  it.     Her  <?> 

X)  hero,   heroine,    desperadoes,   scenes,   plot, — all  are  ci 

1?  drawn  with  the  broad  and  breezy  strength  that  "^f 

g  the  boundless  sweep  of  the  plains  inspires,  and  the  jS" 

VJ  leaven  of  love  works  in  its  own  mysterious  way,  "t? 

<§}  always  new  and  enchanting.  {§> 


c*-*- 

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Climbing  Upf 

to  Nature  f 

-g> 

:   :   :   :   By   FLORENCE    J.    LEWIS    :   :   :   :  -g> 

§> 

READ  ABOUT  g> 

Mrs.  Jawkins'  tea  party —  i^ 

The  grocery  man's  free  outing  to  his  "  paid-ups  "-    -  f?> 

The  Christmas  supper  at  the  church —  ~~^ 

The  droll  characterization  of  Miss  Beals,  Miss  Pip,  ix 

the  Widow  Smith,  and  other  dwellers  in  McCor-  _£5> 

mack's  Circle,  and  you  will   laugh   as  you   have  jzf 

not  laughed  over  any  book  in  many  a  long  day.  ex 

Scintillating  with  delicious  humor,  full  of  just  the   kind  i^T 

of  natural  fun  we  have  all  hugely  enjoyed  at  times,    but  _£?> 

have  never  had   the  wit   to  put  into  words,   its  drollery  ~f 

flashes  back  at  us  in  every  chapter  like  the  ripples  of  a  "ex 

sunny  brook.  _£*> 

One  chapter  of  such   a   story  is  worth   a   cartload    of  .£*, 

"  problem  "  novels.  jrf 

But  with  all  its  fun,  there  is  an  underlying    sympathy  :=f 

for  the  homely  characters  so  faithfully  and  good-humoredly  Trx 

protrayed.      The  efforts  of  the  gifted  and  lovable  heroine  -C^> 

to  lift  them  out  of  their  narrow  interests,   and  her  own  ;=f 

charming  romance,  lend  beauty  and  harmony  of  purpose  "cs 

to  this  brilliant  story.  _g> 

Through  the  whole  book  runs  a  delightful  acquaintance  -C^> 

with  Nature,  that  softens  and  sweetens  its  exuberant  fun.  2^ 

'& 

Fully  illustrated,  handsomely  hound  £J> 

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CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

University  of  California,  San  Diego 

DATE  DUE 


21983 


a  39 


UCSD  Libr. 


A     000818206     5 


